


Concord Ever Cherished

by n_a_feathers



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers, Exhibitionism, Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 02:44:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12831657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_a_feathers/pseuds/n_a_feathers
Summary: Henry looked to the strangers and said, "I promised the avengers of my wife's death anything they should ask for, up to half of my kingdom. Pray tell me what it is you want.”Without hesitation, the leader looked Barry’s father in the eye and answered, "Your son, the prince."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Concord Ever Cherished](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14939460) by [MaryNevskaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryNevskaya/pseuds/MaryNevskaya)



 

 

King Henry was hearing petitions in the Great Hall when the disturbance began.

 

Prince Barry, his only son, sat on his right and, despite usually being diligent in his duties, found that his mind wandered recklessly this morning. Currently two of his father’s tenants were putting their cases forward regarding some livestock of uncertain ownership. Petty disputes such as this were common; Barry had heard enough of them when he had briefly taken over the King’s duties not long ago. Henry would hear their complaints and then rule wisely, as he always did. Barry was here today merely for form’s sake, a reminder that he existed and would eventually succeed the kingship.

 

It left him with plenty of time with no expectation of him except to look vaguely invested in his father’s subjects’ petty quarrels though. The monotony of it caused his mind to drift back to that morning when he had run into Iris West, the daughter of one of his father’s tenants, here with her father to join in those petitioning the King. Iris was perhaps the most beautiful woman Barry had ever met with a sharpness of tongue and a talent for wit to match. They had crossed paths frequently since they were both children; their parents’ friendship extended even further back than that.

 

In his heart of hearts, Barry hoped to wed her someday. He knew his father would approve if he asked for his permission. Henry had worked hard to make his kingdom stable and strong. Where the children of other regents were traded off like stock to cement alliances between kingdoms, Barry had always been promised from a young age that he would be allowed to marry for love. Nothing was more enthralling to him than true love. Whenever he had free time, he went to the library to devour the old stories: Tristan and Isolde, Orpheus and Eurydice, Romeo and Juliet.

 

His parents’ had been an arranged marriage but they, unlike so many others, had come to love and respect each other so much that his father’s grief at her passing had been devastating. For several long months the running of the kingdom had fallen prematurely onto Barry’s young shoulders while his father was made useless and irrational in his sorrow. Barry did not blame his father. The depth of his grief was equal to the depth of the love he had held for Nora. He had lost a part of himself when she died.

 

Still, Barry hoped to never experience what his father had, for he believed he could love Iris just as deeply as Henry had loved Nora. The way she had beamed at him this morning, not hiding her happiness behind a hand or a stoic facade like some of the women did, her eyes grown soft with fondness. Her smile had shone on Barry radiantly like the sun and brightened his day.

 

He began to plan how he would court her. He would need to be on the top of his game; nothing else would suffice for a woman like Iris. Although he believed she harboured an affection for him that matched his own, she was also smart enough to have the happiness and prosperity of her future in mind when making a decision. The life of a queen – while seeming to be glamorous on the surface – was no small commitment.

 

The quarrelling tenants were still laying out their droll arguments when Barry was shaken from his musing by noise coming from outside of the Great Hall. At first it was faint and went unnoticed by almost everyone else in the room. Barry watched though as quiet murmuring passed from one person to another as the noises grew louder until they were impossible to ignore. Eventually even the petitioners’ arguing ground to a halt as the sounds of scuffling and yelling came from the corridor directly outside the Great Hall.

 

The doors were thrown open suddenly and none too gently, and a trio of strangers pushed their way past the clamouring steward and into the hall. Barry leapt to his feet but his father beside him remained seated and did not seem outwardly surprised by the interruption.

 

The leader of the strangers stalked towards the king and his son, a sack in his hand and his companions - one tall and broad, the other short and compact - flanking him.

 

The man’s eyes raked across the room, surveying all those assembled, and it seemed to Barry that they lingered longer on himself, the stranger’s stormy eyes pinning him in place and looking right into his soul. Barry’s breath caught in his throat and his heart beat like a drum. Barry felt like he was being judged… and found wanting. It was a physical relief when the man looked away.

 

The tenants scattered like the sheep they’d been arguing over as the trio walked through them. When they had taken up the usual place in front of Henry, the leader gave a perfunctory bow. His companions did not mirror him. Barry admired his father’s composure as he rose from his seat and addressed them. He would never have been able to accomplish it. He may have filled in for his father briefly in the past but even he knew he was far from being ready to succeed him.

 

"Good day, sirs,” greeted Henry. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

 

The leader's answer was to dig into the sack he held and throw something from it at Henry's feet. It bounced wetly once and then spun in place in front of them. Barry leant forward to see what it was but instantly recoiled when he realised it was a severed head. His father merely approached it and nudged it face-upwards with the toe of his boot. The eyes were milky and sunken and the mouth slack but the face that now looked up at them was instantly recognisable as the visage of Eobard Thawne.

 

Barry turned to his father to see his reaction but his face remained stoically blank. Barry imagined it was a bittersweet emotion he was feeling. The death of Nora had devastated his father, left him a shell of his former self and necessitated Barry taking a much more active role in the running of the kingdom than was normal at his age. In Henry’s grief he had made all kinds of promises to the man who could avenge his wife. Barry had hoped they would be dismissed as the ravings of a husband not coping with the death of his beloved wife, and so had Henry when he’d recovered most of his sanity. Apparently not.

 

Henry wasn't a cruel man. In fact, he was the kindest man that Barry knew. He didn't delight in blood sports and war like some, and would only hunt for food. Although it was necessary, the death of Eobard Thawne itself would bring him no pleasure. Nor would it bring back his wife. In the light of the sobriety that followed his stormy sorrow, he could see this as it was: just another senseless death.

 

After a moment alone with his thoughts, Henry looked to the strangers and said, "I promised the avengers of my wife's death anything they should ask for, up to half of my kingdom. Pray tell me what it is you want.”

 

Without hesitation, the leader looked Barry’s father in the eye and answered, "Your son, the prince."

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

The room erupted into chaos immediately, outraged shouting echoing around the hall as Barry stood there in dumb shock.

 

The strangers ignored everyone else in the room except for Barry and his father. The leader in particular kept that intense gaze of his focussed on Barry and Barry for his part was too stunned to think to tear his eyes away. What could this man possibly want with him? He had no substantial lands or wealth except what would come to him upon his father’s death. If he’d wanted riches, he would have done better to just ask for them outright.

 

Maybe they meant to keep him as a ward cum hostage, but for what? Once again, it would be easier to simply ask for what they wanted directly. Henry wouldn’t deny them and anyone who knew him even a little would know that; he never went back on his word.

 

Henry’s cape swished behind him as he turned and resumed his seat, and a hush finally fell on the room. “Leave us,” he commanded.

 

High-born folk and peasants alike dragged their feet as they went, whispering amongst themselves and throwing looks between Barry, the stranger and the king. Barry flushed with embarrassment, though he didn’t know why. Something in the speculative looks of the people made his skin crawl, like they knew something he didn’t and it wasn’t good.

 

He looked away and instead focused on the three strangers standing in front of him. They were all of them dressed for travel, boots spattered with mud and heavy cloaks hanging from their shoulders. The two who had trailed behind the man who’d spoken still had their hoods drawn over their faces, somewhat concealing them. If Barry squinted he could make out the square jaw of the broader one, shadowed with a hint of stubble and with a moue of displeasure in the downturn of his mouth, but when he looked at the other he was surprised to find an unmistakeably feminine chin and mouth. She must have been watching him from underneath the shadow of her hood, for she lifted her head enough that her eyes were visible to him and winked.

 

Barry looked away quickly and his eyes fell again on the man he’d come to think of as the leader of the group. He was older than Barry, that much was apparent from the grey starting to pepper his sideburns, but Barry suspected he was younger than he appeared. He had that look of someone prematurely old, a wisdom in his eyes that came of more experience in a decade than most people got in their whole lives. Then those eyes met his own and his heart started beating like a hare’s and Barry quickly decided the floor was the safest place for him to be looking right now.

 

Soon the hall was emptied of everyone except Barry, his father and the three strangers. Perhaps that should have made Barry feel more at ease, but it did exactly the opposite. He felt doubly conspicuous now that their audience was gone, butterflies going mad in his stomach as he resumed his seat and waited to find out what this man wanted of him.

 

Once the door closed behind the last person with a resounding bang, Henry straightened in his chair and asked, “What are your names?”

 

The leader once again stepped forward and spoke on behalf of the three. “Leonard Snart, your Majesty, and my companions Mick Rory and Sara Lance.”

 

Snart. Barry recognised the name. He had been educated to recognise all of the royal families in the surrounding kingdoms. The Snarts ruled over land to the north, nowhere near as large a holding as the Allens had and most of it too rocky and barren to be suitable for farming at that. When foreign dignitaries visited the Allen castle, they often joked that King Snart was as inhospitable as the land he ruled over.

 

If Barry recalled his lessons correctly, King Lewis Snart had two children – a son and a daughter – and an ever growing list of dead wives. This must be the elder son then. He certainly acted the part. He carried himself like someone who wasn’t used to deferring to other people’s authority and – although he was respectful to Henry – he treated him more like an equal, looking him directly in the eye with the confidence of someone accustomed to dealing with royalty.

 

“Snart?” Knowing his father well, Barry heard the slight disapproval in his voice colouring that name. To anyone else it would still sound civil. “Well, then, Prince Leonard, I need to—”

 

“I’m not a prince,” he cut in before Henry could continue.

 

Barry and Henry shared a look. They had obviously reached the same conclusion about Leonard’s parentage and were surprised to be wrong. How many Leonard Snarts could there be? Barry leant forward. “But aren’t you the son of King Lewis?” he asked tentatively.

 

“He disowned me,” Leonard said and he sounded indifferent but his eyes were cold like ice. “I’m no better than a bastard now.”

 

In a rare show, Henry faltered for words. Barry himself did not know what would be an appropriate response to that declaration either. An only son being disowned was unheard of. It left the kingdom without a direct heir and liable to fall into chaos at the death of the regent. Even if King Lewis’ daughter was married with children – and Barry recalled vaguely that she wasn’t - wouldn’t he prefer his natural child to inherit the throne rather than an in-law? It made no sense.

 

Henry seemed to come to the same conclusion and decide that discretion was the better part of valour. He continued where he left off: “I need to know exactly what you mean by asking for my son.”

 

“It’s quite simple.” Even having said that, Leonard planted his feet like he was getting ready for a fight and Barry tensed in turn. “In recompense for bringing your wife’s killer to justice, I only ask that your son wed my sister.”

 

Barry looked to his father and saw his jaw tense and the way his grip tightened on the chair’s arm. With practised geniality and an apologetic smile on his face, he answered Leonard’s request: “My son is his own man and I made him a promise when he was younger that he could marry whomever he wants. Unfortunately it is not within my powers to grant you want you ask for. Choose anything else and it shall be yours.”

 

Barry relaxed. He shouldn’t have doubted that his father would keep his word to him. Henry was the best man he knew and Barry’s love for him only grew as he rebuffed an arrangement that other kings might have jumped at. Barry suspected that Henry knew of his affection for Iris but was also widely aware that she was only the daughter of a tenant and their marriage would bring no gains to the kingdom except Barry’s happiness. Leonard’s sister, on the other hand, was a princess and – if what Leonard said was correct – the only recognised child of a king who was already quite aged. Should he die, the land held by the Snarts (little and bleak as it was) would become part of the Allen kingdom. The scales tilted very obviously in favour of the latter arrangement as far as the prosperity of their kingdom was concerned.

 

Barry reached out and laid his hand over his father’s. He hoped that Henry would understand from this small display how grateful Barry was to him.

 

“I don’t want anything else.”

 

Both Henry and Barry turned quickly to look back at Leonard and startled when they saw the man’s hands had navigated to his sword, his right on the hilt and ready to draw.

 

The woman – Sara – hissed at him, “Stop it, Snart,” but the other companion seemed ready to back Leonard up in a fight. More than ready really, the corners of his mouth pulled tight in an approximation of a ragged grin, and Barry wondered if this was exactly what he’d tagged along for. Barry belatedly fumbled for his own sword, propped up against his chair, out of practise and made clumsy with fear, and only just managed not to send it clattering to the floor. The feel of the leather pommel against his palm only offered him the slightest measure of security, for in truth it was a largely ceremonial sword and he had never been the greatest student when it came to the martial arts. He had no hope of besting Leonard but perhaps he could protect his father long enough that someone would hear the commotion and provide aid.

 

Henry rose slowly from his chair, holding out a placating hand to both Leonard and Barry. “We can discuss this. There’s no need for hostility.”

 

Leonard’s glare could have cut diamonds. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t negotiable. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable either. You issued a royal decree offering up to half of your kingdom to whoever did your dirty work—“ Henry winced at the term “—and I am asking for exactly that… in the form of a marriage.”

 

“I would be more than happy to simply gift you the land. Wouldn’t that be easier?”

 

Leonard was visibly growing frustrated. “That’s not what I want. There must be a marriage. My sister will have ownership of half your lands. That meets the terms of your offer and you won’t even have to pay up until after you’re dead. And if my old man carks it, you might even actually profit from this arrangement in your own lifetime. It’s an easy deal.”

 

Barry could see his father’s resolve falter under Leonard’s stubbornness. As much as the thought of being manipulated into a loveless marriage galled him, his father’s distress pained him more keenly in the moment. He could see Henry struggling with his promise to Barry in light of Leonard’s demands, and it fairly broke his heart when the last protest Henry could offer was: “But what price do I put on my son’s happiness?”

 

Sara stepped forward then, drawing back her cloak to reveal her face. “I understand the unfortunate situation this puts you and your son in. I can understand a parent wanting only the best for their child.” Her calm voice and understanding tone lowered the tension in the room instantly. Where Leonard was brazen and abrasive, Sara seemed reasonable. Why she hadn’t been selected to run negotiations from the start, Barry did not know. “Your Majesty’s marriage was an arranged one, if I’m not mistaken?”

 

“It was,” Henry conceded.

 

“And you were happy, were you not?”

 

Henry’s eyes went distant for a second, looking back into the past. “I was.”

 

Sara nodded, a gentle smile on her face like she too had known a great love like Henry and Nora’s. “Your son seems like a kind man – the spitting image of his father – and Princess Lisa too is a paragon of virtue and beauty. They would make a good match and who knows? Perhaps they’ll fall in love like you did.”

 

“Perhaps.” Sara was skilled, Barry would admit that. Her gentle questioning had soothed the worried furrows from Henry’s brow and replaced them with a more contemplative look. While Barry was pleased some of his father’s worry had been alleviated, it might mean the final decision ultimately now rested with him. This speculation was only proven true when, after a short moment spent mulling things over, Henry looked to Leonard and said, “I need to speak to my son in private.”

 

“Of course. We’ll be outside,” Leonard said with a low bow, turning and leading Mick and Sara out of the room.

 

As soon as they were gone, Barry let some of his frustration out by getting up and pacing the room. What he really wanted to do was throw something but that would be letting his emotions have too much control. As much as he’d like to rail and fuss like an upset child, he was a prince, the heir to his father’s kingdom, and if his taste of power had taught him anything, it was that sometimes you had to distance yourself from your own thoughts, feelings and desires and try to look at a problem objectively. It was admittedly something he was still working on.

 

“What are your thoughts, Barry?”

 

“I hate him.” Anger was roiling in his gut now, stoked to burning by Leonard Snart and his insufferable pigheadedness. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got.

 

Henry allowed himself a small chuckle. “I guessed that much, but what about the marriage?”

 

“I don’t want to, but what choice do I have? What he’s asking for is within his rights.”

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

“Dad…”

 

“Your mother and I, we promised you that you wouldn’t have to marry for anything but love.” Henry looked to the side, avoiding Barry’s eyes. “I know there’s someone you have your eye on. You’re not subtle.”

 

Barry breathed deep. Henry was right. For years now he had planned his future with Iris as his wife and queen. If not for this hurdle, he was sure that was the way things would have panned out too. What he was feeling now was a knee-jerk reaction to the threatening of that comfortable daydream he’d held onto for so long. He pushed all of his anger and frustration down deep. He needed to work through that and put on a brave face; he needed to make the decision that Henry couldn’t out of love for him. “That doesn’t matter anymore. This is my reality now. Leonard isn’t going to budge and everyone heard him ask for me. They may not know the details now, but they will. They won’t see it the way we do. They don’t care if their prince marries for love or not, as long as the kingdom is stable and the king can be trusted to be good and fair. We can’t say no, not without going back on your word.”

 

“When did you become so practical, son?” asked Henry sadly.

 

Barry came to kneel in front of him, taking Henry’s hands in his own and squeezing them comfortingly. “I’ve had to grow up a lot in the last year. I don’t want to do this, but it’s what needs to be done. Maybe I’ll be lucky like you were.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Barry. Your mother and I only wanted happiness for you.”

 

Barry shook him head. “It’s not your fault. Never think that. Any man with a heart wouldn’t ask us to do what Leonard is asking us to.”

 

With one final squeeze of Henry’s hands, Barry rose to his feet and placed a kiss on his father’s brow.

 

 “It’s decided then?”

 

“Yes. I suppose I’m to be married.”

 

Saying it aloud made it feel real. Barry stood there in the empty hall and contemplated his future. In less than an hour, his entire world had been turned upside down. Everything he’d taken for granted – being able to find the person he loved in his own time, to not marry until he was completely certain – was ripped away from him. Like so many other royal children, he’d be forced into an arranged marriage with a woman he’d never met and may not even like for political gain. All because Leonard Snart had walked into his life.

 

“Would you mind calling them back in?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Barry took a steadying breath and then he went to the doors and waved their guests back into the room. He had to bite his tongue as Leonard passed him, sorely tempted to give the man a piece of his mind.

 

When Barry was seated again, Leonard addressed Henry. “What is your decision, your Majesty?”

 

Henry looked to Barry questioningly. Barry knew that if he shook his head now, Henry would fight for him, come hell or high water, despite the agreement they’d come to earlier. He could have the life he’d imagined.

 

Instead, he nodded.

 

“We accept your terms,” Henry said with finality. “Barry will marry your sister.”

 

Something like relief flashed across Leonard’s face, too quick to gauge before it was replaced by his usual uncaring sneer. “I’m glad we could come to an agreement.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Leonard’s entire demeanour changed once Barry and his father conceded to his wishes. The whiff of desperation and violence that had clung to him since he forced his way into the great hall was gone almost immediately, overtaken by a frighteningly intense concentration focused on getting the details of the marriage arrangement ironed out and set in motion.

 

Barry’s mind began to spin as Leonard started going into the minutiae of royal wedding procedure and Henry was left with no other choice than to remind him that they’d been in the middle of appeals when he and his compatriots had barged in, and that the petitioners were still waiting outside. “Could we continue this once Barry and I are done here, in my solar perhaps?”

 

Leonard looked put out, as though he’d been expecting to work through it all immediately. If he could have conducted the wedding ceremony right then and there in the bride’s absence, Barry half-imagined he might have.

 

“As you wish, your Majesty,” he said, bowing. “How shall we know when and where to come?”

 

“I’ll have a footman escort you to rooms you may use for the duration of your stay. He’ll fetch you again when Barry and I have concluded our business here. We’ll see you anon.”

 

Henry called for a footman and briefly explained their guests’ needs to him before sending them on their way. Sara twiddled her fingers at Barry as she slipped through the doors.

 

Barry heaved a sigh of relief once they were gone. “He’s intense,” he said, turning to his father. Henry nodded absently and Barry wondered what thoughts filled his head. He hoped the breaking of his promise wasn’t weighing too heavily on him. Barry blamed no one but Leonard for that.

 

“I suppose we’d better get this over with,” Henry eventually prompted. “We don’t want to keep Leonard waiting.”

 

Barry nodded his agreement but in his mind he hoped the petitions dragged on and on and that Leonard was left to stew for hours. It would serve him right; only a small inconvenience though in light of the one he was foisting onto Barry.

 

An arranged marriage. People would have to be told. If everything was to happen as quickly as Leonard seemed to want it to, they’d need to start moving quickly. “Do we need to make an announcement when they all come back in?” Barry asked Henry. “They already know something has happened. Better to give them the truth than let rumour run wild.”

 

“You’re right, once again.” Henry reached for Barry’s hand and clasped it tightly. “I’m proud of you, son. Your mother would be too.”

 

Barry felt the tightness in his chest that always came when Nora was mentioned. He wished she was still here. She would have known what to do.

 

Those waiting outside the hall were ushered back in and Henry stood before them and announced Barry’s impending nuptials. Barry saw the people whispering between themselves and shooting glances his way. He flushed with shame. The braver amongst them voiced their questions aloud: what would this mean for the kingdom? When was the wedding to take place? Could the Snart kingdom be trusted?

 

Henry didn’t have the answers they wanted but assured them he would always act in the kingdom’s best interests; the details would be hammered out that evening. This seemed to appease them for now.

 

Once the excitement had died down, the afternoon proceeded much as the morning had except now Barry’s thoughts were occupied not with Iris – though regret for the way things had turned out and how he was going to explain it to her did consume him for a while – but with Leonard and his soon-to-be bride. Would she be all Sara had said she was? Would he be happy? Could he be happy, always knowing he’d been forced into this, abandoning Iris along the way?

 

Time seemed to pass very quickly and in no time at all the line of petitioners had dwindled to nothing. Henry ordered a steward to bring Leonard’s entourage to his solar, as well as some victuals.

 

Side by side Barry and Henry walked the castle halls, properly alone and not in a rush for the first time that day.

 

“Your mother and I…” Henry began but then lapsed into silence. Barry gave him his space to gather his thoughts and eventually he did continue. “It was frightening at first. I was younger than you are now when we were wed. We fumbled our way through it somehow and were blessed enough to find love in our union. I don’t know what I would’ve done if she’d hated me. It would have been unbearable.”

 

After ascending a level they reached Henry’s solar and found it unoccupied. Henry went and slumped into a plush chair but Barry sought to calm his jittery nerves by fiddling with a quill and parchment set out on his father’s desk. The only sound was the crackling of the fire as they waited in tense silence like men waiting for the executioner.

 

Leonard’s entrance this time was much more subdued than his previous one, and was even announced by a knock on the door.

 

“Come in,” commanded Henry and Barry went to stand by his shoulder.

 

Leonard came in first, changed out of his travel wear into an outfit not unlike Barry’s own. It had obviously seen better days and could do with a proper clean, but it was unmistakably of quality befitting a prince. Barry wondered anew what had caused Leonard to be disowned by his father. If the stories they heard about Lewis Snart were true, then it must have had to be something truly despicable to upset even that cruel man.

 

He was followed by Sara and Barry was surprised when she closed the door behind her. Mick must not have been attending then. It only confirmed what Barry had suspected: Mick was a bruiser, pure and simple. His absence went unremarked upon.

 

“Thank you for seeing us again today,” began Sara, playing up her role of diplomat. “I know you must have a thousand and one other pressing duties that we’re keeping you from.”

 

“None of them as important as my son’s future.” Henry inclined his head to the other places at the table. “Please, take a seat.”

 

They all gathered around the small table in the centre of the room, Barry joining Henry on one side, Leonard and Sara on the other. Barry ended up opposite Leonard and, despite knowing he should be diplomatic in spite of everything, couldn’t help scowling at the former prince. The amused smirk he received in return wasn’t unexpected but still made fire flare in his gut.

 

“Tell us, Leonard,” said Henry, drawing Leonard’s attention away from Barry, the frisson of electricity between them snapping, leaving Barry with a sense of disappointment he couldn’t even explain to himself, “how you see this playing out.”

 

“I would like it done as quickly as possible, honestly.” Barry wondered what the reason for this haste was. He and his father had agreed to Leonard’s demand and wouldn’t renege on that promise. Perhaps Leonard was not so sure of their reliability and sought to cement the marriage before they could find a way to back out. He did seen the suspicious kind. Barry thought it was probably a reflection on his own character: he was treacherous and so he expected it in others.

 

“I got that impression,” said Henry. “So what would you have us do?”

 

“I’ve brought a messenger pigeon with me.” Of course he had, Barry thought. “If you write a note, I’ll send it post haste. Arrange for a human messenger too, in case the bird doesn’t make it. Propose the marriage between Prince Barry and Princess Lisa and request that the princess be brought here immediately for you wish the wedding to be held as soon as possible. All going well she should arrive within two weeks.”

 

Henry frowned and leant forward in his chair. “King Snart doesn’t know about this? What if he isn’t amenable to the union?”

 

Barry felt a spark of hope ignite in his chest that maybe his future wasn’t set in stone yet. Leonard had been disowned, maybe he was acting out of spite for his father. King Snart would ultimately have the final say. If he spurned the arrangement Leonard had masterminded, Barry would be free.

 

Leonard dismissed Henry’s doubts and Barry’s hope with a wave of his hand. “He will be. He’ll never get a better offer for Lisa.”

 

Barry cringed at the way Leonard spoke. His sister wasn’t a sack of flour or a horse, she shouldn’t be spoken of like goods to be traded. It only cheapened their impending nuptials further.

 

“What if we gave them some time to be acquainted before the wedding?” said Henry. “Even just a month?”

 

“What difference will it make?” Leonard asked dismissively. “The marriage will happen regardless. If it will please you though, then they can have two days. Time is of the essence. The ceremony can be simple, there’s no need for pomp and circumstance. You have made it clear that you’d prefer this not to happen entirely.”

 

That, at least, was a relief. Barry thought of having to keep his composure, perhaps even fake happiness, for a whole day in front of a crowd of people and shuddered at the prospect. If it could be done simply and with a minimum of fuss, that would be his preference.

 

They disbanded shortly after, Leonard with the note that sealed Barry’s fate in his hand.

 

 

***

 

 

When Barry came down for breakfast the next day, Leonard and his companions were there.

 

Leonard was leaning towards Sara, and the two of them were talking together in hushed tones. Mick was ignoring them and everyone else in the room, sculling a beer. Henry, at the head of the table, was the first to notice Barry’s arrival and shot him an apologetic look. When Leonard caught sight off him, he fell silent and Barry couldn’t help but assume they’d been talking about him.

 

“Morning, your Highness,” said Sara, leaning forward on her elbows and smiling predatorily. She was unlike any other woman he’d met in her forwardness and Barry wasn’t sure how to take her. He reckoned a quick nod of his head would be a safe acknowledgement of her greeting and did so. This seemed to amuse her and she turned to whisper something in Leonard’s ear. The intimacy the two of them shared was curious and Barry couldn’t help wondering what their relationship was.

 

Barry took his seat beside his father, deliberately angling his chair so he had his back to Leonard.

 

To say that first breakfast was awkward would be an understatement. Leonard and his companions had seated themselves apart from the people of the castle and whatever banal pleasantries were attempted to be exchanged between the two groups, they immediately fell flat.

 

Barry put all of his attention into eating his breakfast and getting out of there as quickly as possible.

 

But then he thought he heard his name said and swung around in time to catch Leonard, Sara and Mick staring unabashedly at him. They didn’t shy away from looking once they’d been noticed. In fact, Leonard seemed to study him even more closely. He had the most intense eyes and Barry felt his breath leave him being pinned under them. He was more aware of his own body than he ever had before: the constricting of his chest and the rapid-fire beating of his heart that he swore he could hear drumming in his ears. His hands tightened on his knife and fork as he tried to find some anchor against this barrage of feelings.

 

Then someone guffawed and Barry snapped back to his usual sense of self.

 

He looked and it was Mick who was laughing so loudly, but Sara was also hiding a smile behind her hand. Leonard’s self-satisfied smirk confirmed he’d made the remark that had made them laugh and Barry could only assume it had been made at his expense.

 

Barry slammed down his cutlery, stood up and left the dining hall without another word.

 

 

 

***

 

 

The Allen castle wasn't large by modern standards. It had been the stronghold of their family for generations and remained largely unchanged so that it almost looked small compared to some of the palaces that had been built within the last century. Not that it actually was small, with its stone fortifications and turrets, the whole encompassing the large courtyard where horses were stabled and squires and knights trained. Yet, no matter how big the castle was, Barry was amazed and a little chaffed to find that wherever he went, Leonard seemed to be there too.

 

Sometimes he would be with Mick and Sara, other times he would be by himself. Barry would go to train in the courtyard and there he was, watching. His smouldering gaze would follow Barry as he twisted and struck with his practice blade and more than once he became distracted by Leonard's unwavering attention and took a blow. If Barry went to the library, Leonard would be there in his favourite spot, reading. He was there at breakfast, he was there at lunch, he was there at dinner. In the span of only a few days it seemed he had insinuated himself into their lives. Barry couldn't escape him.

 

Mick and Sara adapted to castle life like fish to water. They were there for communal meals, they sparred with the knights and squires during the day and they would often stay up late, drinking with the more boisterous of the castle’s occupants. The people liked them and welcomed two more pairs of helping hands readily. Soon it was if they had always been there.

 

But Leonard just seemed to watch Barry, alone and apart.

 

 

***

 

 

Five days later, a pigeon came with the reply that sealed Barry’s fate. The pigeon had arrived in the Snart kingdom without incident, and so when the Allen’s messenger had arrived, Princess Lisa was packed and ready to go. King Lewis had had no objections. They’d left the next morning. If all proceeded favourably, they’d arrive at the castle four days hence.

 

 

***

 

 

Barry tried to avoid Leonard as much as possible after that. More often than not that meant keeping to the royal family’s private quarters and taking most of his meals in his room. Barry knew he wasn’t behaving in a way befitting of a prince but he couldn’t help himself from sulking like a bratty child. Henry didn’t say anything, but the looks he levelled Barry’s way when they crossed paths spoke just as loudly as any words.

 

Barry hadn’t planned it but one night, close to midnight, as he was wandering the halls, thinking no one would be up, he turned a corner and came face to face with Leonard. He bit his tongue, meaning only to offer a nod of his head in acknowledgement of the other man, but then everything he’d been bottling up over the last week bubbled up inside him and he saw red.

 

Before he knew what he was doing, he had Leonard pushed up against the wall, fists bunched in his collar, the distance between them close to nothing.

 

“You’re evil, you know that?” he spat into Leonard’s face. “Pure evil.”

 

Leonard said nothing but that incessant smirk was gone from his face. He didn’t try to fight Barry’s hold either.

 

“I had a future. I was going to be happy. My mother promised me I’d…” No. Barry pulled himself up short. Leonard didn’t get to hear about his mother. “But now I’ll have to watch the love of my life marry someone else. If your sister’s anything like you, I’ll be miserable for the rest of my life too.”

 

Leonard’s continued silence made him so furious. Barry wanted to shake him, punch him, not just scream at him. He had enough presence of mind not to though. It wouldn’t make things better. Nothing would. He’d made his bed and now he had to lay in it.

 

At the realisation that nothing he did was going to make a difference at this point, Barry deflated. His hands slipped from Leonard’s collar to hang limply at his side.

 

“Why are you doing this to me?” He asked, resigned. “You’re ruining my life.”

 

Leonard regarded him with cool indifference. “Because I can. Is that what you want me to say?”

 

He pushed Barry away from him and for a beat they were standing on opposite sides of the hall, neither looking at the other.

 

“I’m only staying until the wedding. Then you’ll never have to see me again.”

 

With that, Leonard stalked away.

 

“Good!” Barry shouted at his back.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

The day Princess Lisa was set to arrive, Leonard was out in the courtyard long before any of the residents of the castle even began to consider going out. Barry’s bedroom, being just to the left of the gatehouse, afforded views of both the courtyard and the bridge over the moat into the castle, and he spent his time alternating between watching for Princess Lisa’s arrival and observing Leonard pace anxiously, wishing hate upon the man who had ruined his happiness. His ire had reached a fever-pitch this morning and was like a half-wild beast clawing at his insides.

 

It seemed as though the weather was sympathetic to his feelings and by mid-morning the sky had clouded over, leaving the landscape a dull grey. Not long after, a light but relentless drizzle began to fall, drawing the curtain of invisibility tighter around the castle. Leonard simply pulled his hood over his head and continued his vigil.

 

The first sign of Princess Lisa’s arrival was a knight galloping out of the haze and straight over the bridge into the castle courtyard. Barry watched their approach and as they passed into the castle, ran from one side of his room to the other to keep track of them. He realised belatedly it was Sara, her blonde hair plastered to her face as she swung from the saddle and landed with a splash in the quickly forming mud beneath her feet. She briefly spoke with Leonard before marching off into the castle.

 

Barry began to straighten his clothes and ran a hand through his hair. He might not want this union, but a good first appearance could do no harm. By the time a steward came to fetch him, he was sitting on the bed, butterflies in his stomach but determined to go and face his future.

 

Princess Lisa arrived sans the fanfare that such an occasion would normally elicit. Only Henry, Barry, Leonard and his entourage, and what castle staff they would need to attend to Princess Lisa’s arrival were present. They stood in a cluster, silent and still as the heavens poured down on them.

 

The carriage materialised out of the rain like an apparition, the horses champing at the bit, the pounding of their hooves echoing the beating of Barry’s heart. The coachman pulled them up as they crossed the bridge and they came into the courtyard at a walk. Barry wanted to turn to his father and ask where the rest of the procession was but then he caught his first glimpse of his bride-to-be and the words died on his lips. Sara had been right: Princess Lisa was beautiful. The carriage pulled around and Barry lost sight of her again but in that moment he’d seen on her face an expression that had often been on his own these last two weeks: misery.

 

The carriage came to a halt and they all moved towards it as one, a footman rushing ahead to open the door for the princess. With his aid Princess Lisa alighted from the carriage, an elaborate hat covering her now downturned face, offering her some protection from the rain. She didn’t look up the whole time as she approached them and the way she moved was like a man going to the gallows. Barry cursed Leonard anew for doing this to both him and his very own sister. Had she had someone back home that Leonard hadn’t approved of? Is that why he’d set up this elaborate plan, ruining two lives at once?

 

She stopped a few metres short of the assembled household, her eyes fixed steadfastly on their shoes and Barry could make out the subtle shaking of her hands by her side. Perhaps she had, too, because she suddenly clasped them in front of her, her skin paling at the tightness of the grip. Then she looked up.

 

Her eyes swept the assembled household before catching on Leonard, then moved quickly to Sara and Mick, at which her expression changed from barely concealed fear to bewilderment in the blink of an eye. She looked anew at Barry and his father before returning her gaze to Leonard. She stepped forward hesitantly in his direction.

 

“This isn’t—Lenny, what’s going on?”

 

He smiled at her – the first genuine smile Barry had ever seen on his face – and it was gentle and kind. “You’re safe.”

 

Lisa went down to her knees like a puppet whose strings had been cut, her skirts billowing about her, great heaving sobs wracking her body as the rain undid whatever little composure she had left in her dress. Barry took a step forward but Leonard rushed past them all to kneel in front of her and pull her to his chest, holding her close to himself as she sobbed into his jacket.

 

Barry looked to his father in confusion but saw the exact same emotion reflected back at him. The servants shuffled awkwardly where they stood, unsure how to proceed in light of this break from ceremony. A little further back, Mick and Sara both looked like the cat that got the cream, satisfied smiles on their faces.

 

Barry felt as if everything he’d believed as true had been turned on its head and now he felt nothing but confused. In the span of less than a minute Leonard had shifted from the villain to some kind of saviour figure and Barry couldn’t help but feel like he’d played them like a fiddle to orchestrate this just the way he wanted.

 

The thought left a bitter taste in Barry’s mouth for some reason and he couldn’t wait to get to the bottom of this.

 

They stayed that way a long time, Leonard whispering things into Princess Lisa’s ear and although Barry could see his lips moving, the rain drowned out the actual words. She pulled back from his chest and nodded along to what he was saying and for all Barry knew he could be offering comforting words or planning the Allens’ demise.

 

Leonard eventually helped his sister rise to her feet, offering her his handkerchief to wipe her tears away, for what little good it did in the rain. Princess Lisa’s eyes were blotchy and red but despite her mud-stained dress and her sodden hair, her smile was radiant.

 

Leonard took her hand in his and led her towards Barry and his father. “This is King Henry and his son Prince Barry.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, coming forward to take Henry’s hand and then dipping low in a curtsy. “I wasn’t expecting…” She waved her hand to indicate everything around her.

 

Henry followed the arc of her hand, looking for meaning in the gesture. “I confess I’m not quite sure what has transpired, but think nothing of it, Princess Lisa. You are most welcome here.”

 

“Please,” she said, “call me Lisa.” Her voice was honey warm and rich but pitched low so that Barry felt drawn towards her to catch it properly. She turned to him next and again curtsied. “And I expect you to do the same.”

 

When Lisa rose, she looked up at him from underneath her thick eyelashes and it was so calculatingly charming that Barry couldn’t help but be swayed. His manners took over and he felt himself bowing in turn. “Then you must call me Barry.”

 

Lisa graced him with a smile before she resumed her place beside her brother and linked their arms, leaning her head against his shoulder. Leonard fairly melted into the touch like he’d been starved of it for forever. They were obviously close as siblings; the love Lisa had for her brother was telegraphed in her every move and look. Then Barry remembered Lisa’s surprised reaction to her arrival at the castle and wondered if she’d still be so affectionate if she knew the real reason why Leonard had brought her here. He’d been distracted by the emotionally-charged reunion but the reminder of his and Lisa’s situation made him angry all over again.

 

“Perhaps we should get out of this rain,” suggested Henry. “Besides, I think the four of us need to talk. Privately.”

 

“I agree,” said Barry, glaring at Leonard.

 

“But first, let us all have a change of clothes. Shall we meet in my solar in half an hour?” Leonard and Lisa nodded their agreement to the suggestion. “Good. I’ll have someone show you to your rooms, Lisa.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Lisa followed directly behind Henry as he went to find a steward to escort her and Leonard moved to trail them but, before he could get away, Barry grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from the assembled group. He caught Sara watching them like a hawk but she didn’t move to intervene.

 

Once they had some privacy, Barry hissed, “Why didn’t you just tell us she was in some kind of trouble?”

 

Leonard shook his hand off, turning to walk away. “It wouldn’t have made any difference.”

 

“Of course it would have!” Barry threw his hands up in frustration. “We’re not monsters.”

 

Leonard scoffed at that. “You could have been. Men so often are.”

 

Leonard’s comment made Barry angrier on his father’s behalf than his own. Barry had his faults and he would readily admit to them, but Henry was beyond reproach and everyone knew it. To think this maddening man would suspect him of being base and cruel was enraging. If only they’d been told what was happening, they could have come to an agreement that suited everybody.

 

Instead, Leonard had to be his pig-headed self and keep it all secret, playing with other peoples’ lives like a puppet master. He’d let Barry stew in his hatred and fear for a fortnight.

 

“You infuriate me.”

 

Leonard sneered. “The feeling’s mutual.”

 

 

***

 

 

Half an hour later they were again seated around the table in Henry’s solar, only now Lisa and Mick had joined their ranks, necessitating Lisa sitting at the head of the table due to lack of seats on Leonard’s side. Barry was feeling particularly ganged up upon with the four of them outnumbering his father and him. Mick’s disinterested presence in particular made Barry suspect Leonard was preparing for a fight.

 

Leonard had ended up opposite Barry again. Their boots had knocked together when Leonard sat down and Barry had drawn his legs under his chair like he’d been burnt. There was an aura of pleased contentment about the four strangers, like they’d gotten exactly what they wanted and Barry still wasn’t sure what that was. It made him nervous.

 

Silence reigned as a servant came in, poured them all a cup and then retreated. The fire crackled in the hearth, a counterpoint to the heavy drumming of the rain against the windows. Mick reached for his cup immediately and drank it with gusto.

 

That was perhaps the metaphorical straw that broke the camel’s back, because the next moment Barry couldn’t stop himself from leaning around his father and asking Lisa, “Did you know your brother sold you off into an arranged marriage?”

 

“Barry!” Henry admonished.

 

Barry was nonplussed to find that Lisa didn’t seem surprised or upset by the news. “So I’ve been told,” she said calmly. “It’s far from the worst thing that could have happened to me.”

 

The change in Lisa from earlier in the day was astounding. When she’d climbed out of that carriage she’d been timid and bowed down by hopelessness. Now here she was with enough attitude to rival her brother. The mountain of questions Barry had about these siblings only grew higher by the minute.

 

Luckily for Barry’s curiosity, it was at that point that Henry took control of the conversation. “Tell us the truth about what you’ve done, Leonard.”

 

Leonard had been sprawled back in his chair, hooded eyes focussed on Barry, but he leant forward when addressed, bracing his elbows on the table and answered, “I’ve saved my sister.”

 

Barry arced up at his evasive reply but Henry was a font of serenity. Patiently, he prompted, “From what?”

 

“I won’t apologise for doing what’s right.”

 

“But what _have_ you done?” Henry implored. “We just want to understand now that we’re involved.”

 

Thankfully Lisa and Sara took over at that point; Lisa shushing her brother before he could properly insult the Allens while Sara quickly explained. “King Lewis is not a kind man whether it comes to his family or his people. He has had a… heavy hand in his children’s discipline.”

 

“He’s a fucking asshole,” Mick muttered as he refilled his cup to the brim with wine.

 

Sara glared at Mick who just shrugged and said, “’S the truth.”

 

She huffed but didn’t deny it. “After disowning Len, he sought to find a match for Lisa to secure an heir. But between his turbulent personality and the poverty of this lands, there wasn’t much interest. That didn’t stop him. He found a particularly brutish nobleman, Lord Damien Darke, who wanted to rise above his station and arranged the marriage between them.”

 

“By all accounts he’s even worse than my father,” said Lisa. “That was where I thought I’d been going for the past week. Father didn’t tell me anything; one day he simply commanded me to pack my things and said that I would be leaving to be married. I was terrified.”

 

Barry may have felt like his life was in limbo the last week, but he now realised it had been a hundred-fold worse for Lisa. She’d been hurried into a carriage and dispatched to a stranger who she had every right to believe would, at the very least, treat her unkindly. At worst he could have seriously hurt or violated her. Barry shuddered to think how much worse it would have been for her if she hadn’t ended up in the Allen kingdom.

 

“We offer you sanctuary, of course,” said Henry, reaching to take her hand in comfort. “You are most welcome here. You can stay as long as you want.”

 

“Thank you,” Lisa said, and the relief at not being turned away was palpable in her voice. What must their world have been, Barry wondered, that simple displays of humanity were such a surprise to them? Leonard needn’t have concocted this whole ruse, Henry would have agreed to help if things had just been explained to him. Barry was sure of it.

 

Leonard rapped his knuckles against the table to draw their attention. “They still have to be wed.”

 

“But why?” Barry whined. He knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he couldn’t help it. Why was marriage still a necessity? Lisa was here and she was safe, wasn’t that enough for Leonard?

 

“You don’t know our father. The only reason he agreed with your offer and broke off the arrangement with Darke is because of the riches and land he sees in her marriage to you, the prince,” he said, pointing at Barry. “Without that promise, he’s likely to demand her back to sell off to the highest bidder. And if you refuse, he will come and he will take her.”

 

“So you damn us both to unhappiness?”

 

“It’s a political marriage. They happen all the time.” Leonard’s tone – like explaining something simple to a dull-witted child – irritated Barry. “Get the ceremony done and you go back to living your own lives. God knows you wouldn’t be the first man with a mistress.”

 

Barry stood up so quickly he knocked his chair over. His chest felt ablaze with righteous indignation. He thought of his love for Iris, of the lengths he would have gone to to make her happy and this man was suggesting he keep her like some whore in secret?

 

“How dare you!”

 

“Barry, calm down.” Henry reached for Barry’s arm but Barry shook him off.

 

“No! He can’t talk like that in front of us or Lisa. It’s cruel.”

 

Everything that had happened over the last fortnight, the stress and anger, the fear and uncertainty, seemed to assail Barry all at once and he felt tears well up in his eyes. This was all so unfair. This wasn’t how he’d planned his life.

 

Lisa stood and came around the table until she could take his hand in hers. Barry ducked his head and rubbed his other hand across his face, wiping away the evidence of his unseemly emotions.

 

“Barry.” She paused and waited until he looked her in the eyes. “I don’t expect a great romance. I don’t want one. I know we’ve been thrown together by chance and it’s not what either of us would have particularly chosen. I’m sorry for that.” She squeezed his hand and it felt like being pulled back to himself.

 

“But I agree with Lenny,” she continued, levelling a reproving stare at her brother, “despite how terribly he phrased himself. This doesn’t have to be anything more than strictly business. I don’t want you to feel as if you’re bound to me. Freedom from my father is the greatest gift I could ever receive and I hate to think my happiness would bring you sorrow. If you had someone before all of this, don’t let me stand in your way.”

 

“I appreciate the sentiment, but everything has changed. There was someone, but I’ll never be able to marry her now.” Barry looked off into the middle distance and thought of Iris. He hadn’t seen her since the morning before his life had been turned upside down. Did she know about what had happened? She must. News of this calibre travelled fast through gossip. God, he would need to speak with her and explain all this face-to-face. He’d hate for her to think that he’d simply abandoned her for no reason. “I can’t give her the future she deserves so – though it pains me – perhaps it’s best if I let her go entirely.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” he assured her. Lisa turned to take her seat again but Barry stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Did… did you have someone back home too?”

 

“No,” she said sadly. “My father didn’t allow me to fraternise with anyone. It was a lonely life. However things turn out here, they can only be better.”

 

Barry felt suddenly ashamed of his protestations. He’d been thinking only of himself for the longest time. His life wouldn’t be horrible married to Lisa – it might even be quite pleasant – and it certainly wouldn’t be more than he could bear. Perhaps, despite the unconventional start to their relationship, they might fall in love. It could all work out in the end.

 

And even if it didn’t, even if they never became anything more than acquaintances who happened to be wed, he would have saved Lisa from a life of pain and suffering. Surely that was enough of a reason to go through with it.

 

“The wedding will go ahead, but in a week’s time.” Barry raised a hand to cut off Leonard before he could start protesting. “I know you’d prefer it earlier, but if there’s to be a wedding, I’d like it done properly. Call me a sentimental fool if you must but I’d rather not do it quickly and in haste as though I were ashamed of the whole thing. Lisa deserves better than that.”

 

Barry half expected Leonard to argue against the new time frame but instead he looked at Barry contemplatively for a moment and then nodded. “That’s acceptable.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

Barry ran into Iris when he hadn’t been expecting to, but the result was entirely as awkward as he’d imagined.

 

Invitations to the wedding had been sent out to close friends and important allies the day after Lisa’s arrival, and Joe West had come to offer what assistance he could. The Wests held choice farming land and had been friends of the crown for several generations. It was tradition that they supply produce and beasts for royal feasts.

 

Henry and Barry were hunched over tax documents when the Wests’ arrival was announced. Barry wasn’t at all surprised when his father immediately looked to him for his reaction. He wouldn’t deny the ice-cold stab he felt in his gut that made him want to hide away from his responsibilities, as big and weighty as they seemed. He’d experienced the feeling often enough when he’d been thrown into the king’s role after the queen’s death and Henry’s breakdown.

 

Back then he didn’t have a choice. It was fulfil his duties or the kingdom would fall to ruin. In this particular situation, he could easily dodge a meeting with Iris with little to no consequences. It was tempting, supremely so.

 

He owed Iris more than that though, for her eternal sweetness and caring. Close to a decade of informal courting was reduced to nothing by the machinations of fate; the least he owed her was a face-to-face explanation and an apology.

 

The pride in Henry’s eyes as Barry rose first and led them from the room did only a little to assuage his nerves. It was a long walk from the inner rooms to the courtyard and it passed in silence.

 

Joe, Iris and Wally West were standing in formation in front of the other various members of the West retinue when Barry and Henry arrived. The usual formalities were exchanged before Henry and Joe led the way to the great hall for further discussions. Barry lagged behind, waiting for everyone else to file away before he followed. He was relieved to see Iris doing the same. Their eyes met and in tandem they peeled off into a nearby corridor.

 

They took up places on opposite sides of the passageway, backs to the walls and a no man’s land between them. Iris didn’t say anything for the longest time and neither did Barry. He felt no urgency to address the elephant in the room, knowing that Henry and Joe would know exactly what their clandestine meeting entailed and therefore there was no rush to not be caught.

 

It was Iris – always the braver and more selfless of the two of them – who eventually broke the silence. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

 

“Thank you,” Barry replied, and the words seemed so tawdry and small. He and Iris had never stood on ceremony around each other before, surely this wasn’t what their relationship would be now. He couldn’t stand it. Emotion welled up within him, everything he’d felt and wanted to say about his circumstances since Leonard had burst into the great hall all those days ago. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t choose this. If I had a say—”

 

“Don’t, Barry.” Iris’ eyes were dewy with tears, her lips clenched tightly together. “Please. It’s fine.”

 

It really wasn’t but what more could he say? Nothing would assuage Iris’ sadness or Barry’s remorse.

 

They walked side-by-side to the great hall, separated by no distance at all and yet Barry had never felt so far away from her.

 

 

***

 

 

Barry returned to his usual routine but continued to try to avoid Leonard. It was simply habit by this point. Leonard though stopped his spying so abruptly that Barry’s exertions were all for nought. Barry could only surmise that he was keeping to his quarters whenever he wasn’t needed on official business because he certainly wasn’t around the castle. The disowned prince’s sudden absence was even more jarring to Barry than his constant presence had originally been.

 

Having said that, they were thrown together often enough, their duties at the wedding overlapping as the groom and proxy-father-of-the-bride. Leonard maintained a façade of disinterested politeness as Barry glared holes in him for hours on end. Henry soon learnt to keep them separated at dinner tables and meeting tables alike.

 

Barry didn’t mean to make things unpleasant but he couldn’t shake that first bad impression Leonard had made. Not that he’d improved upon it since. And Barry still felt as though the fates had played a cruel trick on him. He’d vowed never to treat Lisa unkindly as she had been just as unfairly done by as himself. Leonard was another matter though, and he made an easy target for all of Barry’s frustrations. He bore it admirably which only made Barry angrier.

 

Lisa, on the other hand, was an entirely different creature. Barry came to find that he quite liked her. Most of Barry’s free time was spent with her, getting to know his future wife.

 

She was peculiarly educated and oftentimes Barry would have to explain something to her that he considered common knowledge. He quickly came to learn that King Lewis had carefully curated what information she’d been given as a child and young woman. The only reason she knew some things was because Leonard had taken it upon himself to educate her in secret.

 

Despite that, she had a cutting wit and would direct it equally upon those who vexed her and those she adored. Barry never felt she liked him more than when she was teasing him mercilessly for one thing or another.

 

“How are you and your brother so different?” he asked her one day as they sat under a tree beside the chapel. Winter’s chill was starting to bleed from the air and the tree above them was already budding. Spring and the renewal that came with it had always been Barry’s favourite time of year.

 

Lisa considered the question thoughtfully for a moment, ripping a blade of glass to pieces with her nails. “We’re not really. We’re two sides of the same coin.”

 

Barry didn’t know if he believed that. Lisa was so kind and caring, Leonard was not. Although, Barry had to admit that he did care deeply for one person: his sister. He’d hunted and killed a man for her safety, ruined a prince’s happiness to secure her future. Barry supposed he couldn’t blame the man for that. Lisa was worth fighting for. It was only a pity that Barry had been offered up as a sacrificial lamb in the effort.

 

Lisa reached out and took one of Barry’s hands in hers. “Please don’t hate my brother. He’s just so single-minded, sometimes he doesn’t think about how he comes across or if what he’s doing will affect other people.”

 

Barry couldn’t promise her that and so he kept his mouth shut.

 

Lisa didn’t look happy about it but Barry believed she understood.

 

They were both only pawns in this game between Leonard and his father.

 

Barry only hoped it didn’t backfire on them.

 

When Barry asked if her father was likely to retaliate for what Leonard had done, Lisa was quick to reassure him that they were perfectly safe.

 

“My father is power hungry and he could not have arranged a better match for me if he’d tried. And trust me,” she said sadly, looking down, “he did try. This is far more than I am worth.” She indicated the castle and lands around them.

 

Barry looked around at what would one day be theirs. It wasn’t a large kingdom like some had, but it was fertile and peaceful. Barry knew in his heart that if Lisa’s value had been judged by her own merits, she was worth all this and more. It was only a pity she was dragged down by her father’s legacy. Without her brother’s intervention she most likely would have fallen even lower in the world through no fault of her own with no recourse for justice.

 

Barry slumped sideways, knocking their shoulders together, offering some small measure of comfort.

 

“I’m glad you’re here.”

 

“I am, too,” she answered with a gentle smile.

 

It reminded Barry of her brother’s.

 

 

***

 

 

Barry was often surprised by Lisa’s directness. During a walk through the woods surrounding the castle one day when they were alone, she’d quite bluntly asked him what he expected from her in the bedroom.

 

“Nothing!” he’d said. “Nothing at all.”

 

She peeked at him curiously as she looked steadfastly ahead. “You’ll need an heir at some point though, won’t you?”

 

“Well, I suppose.” Barry kept his eyes anywhere but on Lisa. “Can we not talk about this yet?”

 

“Are you bashful, Barry?” she teased.

 

“No, it’s only…”

 

“Only what?” She rushed a few steps ahead and blocked his path. “You’re terrified of my brother flaying you for touching his darling sister?”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

“Lenny’s a kitten,” she said, a little sadly. “I wish you’d get to know him. I’d like it greatly if he stayed even after the wedding. It’s not as though he has anywhere else to go.”

 

Barry hadn’t considered the possibility of Leonard staying beyond the wedding. He didn’t know that he liked the idea. Lisa was right though, where else would he go? Certainly not back to King Lewis’ kingdom; Barry had gleaned he wasn’t welcome there anymore. It would make sense for him to stay, to be there for Lisa. Barry wanted Lisa to be happy but it didn’t make the prospect gall any less.

 

“Will you have someone else then?” Lisa asked and for a second Barry wasn’t sure what she was asking. She elaborated at his confused expression. “Will you have a mistress perhaps?”

 

“No!” The very thought horrified Barry. He was a romantic to his core and while he may not love Lisa in the way men generally did their wives, but more as the sister he never had, he believed in commitment and fidelity when it came to marriage. He would never pursue anyone else while wed to her. “I would never shame you like that.”

 

“Barry, darling,” Lisa began, sounding very much like someone older and wiser than her years would warrant imparting knowledge upon a student, “I know this is nothing more than a business arrangement. You don’t owe me anything. People have needs – not just of the body, but also a need for _real_ love – and I won’t blame you for meeting yours.”

 

“Still… I won’t.”

 

Lisa frowned at him like she was examining a particularly interesting puzzle.

 

“Have you ever…?”

 

“What do you mean?” Barry asked, knowing exactly what she meant.

 

“You know,” she answered, sticking an elbow into his side.

 

“That’s none of your business.”

 

Lisa grinned and a skip seemed to enter her step. “I thought so.”

 

Barry couldn’t protest because she’d guessed correctly. All he knew of lovemaking was a few stolen kisses with Iris when they weren’t being watched.

 

“I can tell already that married life with you is going to be a joy.”

 

“You love me.”

 

God help him, Barry did. It just wasn’t in the right way.

 

 

***

 

 

The day of the wedding came on suddenly even with the extra time they’d allowed themselves to prepare for it. They had decided it would be a simple affair. Other monarchs might go in for ostentatious shows of power and affluence but no one involved with the wedding thought that was necessary here. It would be held in the castle’s chapel and attended by intimate family, friends and allies only. Not that Barry himself had more than a handful of either, but they easily outstripped Lisa’s side of the guest list (consisting only of her brother, Sara and Mick).

 

Barry was sick with nervousness in the morning but once he was dressed and ushered out of his rooms it all passed in a blur.

 

Suddenly he was at the front of the church, the priest who had known him since he was a boy shaking his hand and patting him on the back as they waited for proceedings to begin.

 

As the organ droned, Lisa appeared at the church doors with a radiant smile on her face, looking gorgeous in the dress the royal seamstress had managed to assemble in such a short time. Len was at her side, dressed in the highest finery and Barry had to admit grudgingly that he looked every bit the handsome prince.

 

The priest spoke for a very long time but Barry didn’t hear a word of it. Underneath her veil Lisa was making increasingly bizarre faces at him, assured that her expression was obscured by distance to everyone except him. It took all of his concentration not to react.

 

He was granted a reprieve once it came time for the veil to be lifted and the vows exchanged. Barry repeated the words the priest said to him without paying attention to them. He could be saying anything. His gaze shifted from his bride-to-be to her brother. There was a contentedness on Leonard’s face that Barry realised was not a general wedding mood, but the certain assurance that his sister was now legally safe from whatever their father had planned for her.

 

They exchanged rings and when the priest instructed him to kiss the bride, he pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

 

They went quickly from the church to the great hall where the feasting and drinking went on for hours. Barry watched as Lisa enthralled all those around her, her smile and laughs carefree, and knew he had done the right thing.

 

 

***

 

 

A knock came at Barry’s door as he was preparing himself for bed. He was still fuzzy from all the beer he’d drunk, everyone at the reception seeming to want to propose a toast to his future happiness. It had seemed unfriendly to refuse at the time but he was regretting it now. A manservant had had to help him to his rooms but Barry had refused his help undressing. It would have left him feeling like a child again.

 

Lisa had gone with her own maid to her room to divest herself of the layers of satin and lace that made up her wedding dress, impossible to take off by herself. He’d been expecting her arrival at any moment so he called out, “Come in.”

 

The door squeaked open as Barry finished lacing the neck of his nightshirt, taking longer than usual with his clumsy fingers. The closer it came to this moment, the calmer Barry became. During the wedding he’d been tight with nervousness, of what was expected of him. Then, as he’d spoken and joked with Lisa over dinner, he’d remembered that she was his friend. Perhaps the closest he’d ever had. She might be brazen herself and enjoy teasing his innocence, but she’d never ask him to do more than he was comfortable with.

 

Barry would blame the drink that it had taken him so long to notice the silence in the room. Many things could be said about Lisa’s ability to read a room in public, but no matter how demure she may play at being, she always made her presence felt. If Lisa had come to his room, she would have spoken immediately or given herself away by gentle footsteps or a touch. Barry turned and his suspicion was confirmed.

 

“Leonard, what are you doing here?”

 

Lisa’s brother stood in front of the doorway to his room, still dressed in all his finery from earlier in the day. His features were gentled by the candlelight and for a moment Barry felt his anger at the man wane. He admitted to himself that if Lisa had been his sister, he would have done exactly the same as Leonard had done.

 

Maybe it was just the drink making him friendly. Probably.

 

Leonard moved a little further into the room and Barry was captivated by the light playing off the brass and jewels sewn into his outfit. He wanted to touch them.

 

Barry blinked and then Leonard was in front of him, within touching distance, those intense eyes focussed all on him. Barry stared into them, his mouth hanging open dumbly and he forgot entirely the history between them.

 

Leonard’s touch, a gentle squeeze of his shoulder, was like the touch of a wood fire’s warmth. Barry wanted to crawl inside that feeling and stay there forever. “Thank you for what you’ve done.”

 

Barry nodded stupidly.

 

That beautiful touch disappeared and Barry’s eyes chased the source. Leonard’s hand dipped under his jacket and out came a knife Barry hadn’t realised he’d had hidden on his person.

 

For a second Barry just stared, removed from the situation like he was watching it from above.

 

Then he came back to himself and went cold with fear. Soberness hit him like a bucket of ice-cold water.

 

He stumbled backwards, made clumsy with drink, his legs hitting the side of his bed unexpectedly and he toppled backwards. Once down, he couldn’t get away. Leonard advanced until he stood over Barry.

 

So this had been his goal, Barry realised. If Barry died, Lisa would be free of her father and her husband in one fell swoop. Leonard must trust enough in Henry’s kindness that he wouldn’t send his daughter-in-law away but would instead treat her like family with his only son gone.

 

Barry felt so stupid.

 

He couldn’t believe he’d started to sympathise with this man.

 

Now it was his undoing.

 

“Lenny!” Lisa’s voice cut through the tension in the room like a knife through butter and Leonard immediately dropped the knife to his side. “You said you’d wait for me. What if you’d scared poor Barry to death?”

 

Barry’s heart beat manically in his chest as he looked from Leonard poised above him to Lisa in the doorway, looking upset but not as upset as Barry felt the situation warranted.

 

Leonard took a few steps backwards. It did nothing to ease Barry’s fear. “It was too choice an opportunity,” he said, looking thoroughly chastised. Lisa tutted her disapproval.

 

Barry only relaxed when Lisa came to sit beside him and laid a gentling hand on his shoulder, smiling reassuringly. “Don’t worry,” she said. “He won’t hurt you. He’s only playing.”

 

Playing? Barry had been sure he was about to die.

 

As always, it felt like the Snart siblings operated on a wavelength all their own and Barry was simply trying to catch up.

 

“I’m sorry. It can be your blood, if you like,” Leonard said with a laugh. “Although I was thinking it might be a little less suspicious if neither of you had fresh wounds.”

 

Leonard approached the bed again, slowly this time and telegraphing his movements for Barry’s benefit. He produced the knife again (Barry’s heart beat fast, even knowing now that he was safe) and sliced across his index finger. It must have been a deep cut for the blood welled up immediately. He climbed on the bed beside Barry and pulled back the sheets. His body was warm against Barry’s side where they brushed together.

 

Leonard squeezed the cut finger, encouraging more blood to flow, and then rubbed it onto the new, clean sheets. When he estimated that he’d made enough of a stain, he slid back onto his feet with a satisfied nod. Lisa handed him a handkerchief to press against the wound and Barry realised the siblings had planned this.

 

“There is the proof of your consummation,” Leonard declared. “Rest easily, no one will doubt you now.”

 

Barry knew little of carnal matters but he knew of this tradition even if it wasn’t practised in the Allen kingdom. They may not display the wedding night sheets in public the morning after to prove the legality of the marriage and the bride’s virginity, but Barry recognised that Leonard was creating a chain of evidence in case Lewis tried to call foul.

 

Barry didn’t know if he would keep the bloodied sheets or whether the gossiping laundry women would spread the word around enough that that wouldn’t be necessary. It was an extra layer of protection for Lisa in the face of Barry’s refusal to consummate. Honestly, considering Leonard’s shrewdness and attention to detail, Barry should have expected it.

 

“Good night, sister,” Leonard said, leaning in to kiss her on the forehead. “Sleep soundly.”

 

Then he turned to Barry. “Thank you.”

 

He sounded so sincere that for a minute Barry almost forgot he’d tried to scare him to death in jest only a few minutes ago.

 

Once Leonard had slipped from the room, Barry and Lisa slipped beneath the covers, avoiding the patch of blood even though it had surely dried quickly. Barry’s tongue was loosened by drink and they whispered together as the night grew long, excited after the day they had had.

 

Of all the horrible possibilities Barry had imagined when Leonard first proposed an arranged marriage, this wasn’t so bad.

 

He’d gained a sister and a friend.

 

If only he could be free of her brother.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

Barry woke to Lisa’s face hovering over his, an impish grin crinkling her eyes and her hair tickling his collarbone.

 

“Good morning, husband,” she trilled like the morning birds.

 

Barry felt groggy and a little the worse for wear after the night they’d had, but Lisa’s charm was like a tonic for his soul. “Good morning, wife.”

 

She flopped to the side and pulled the blankets closer around her, burrowing in until only her face was uncovered, pulling them away from Barry’s feet in the process. He hissed as the cold rushed in and nipped at his heels. It must still be early if a servant hadn’t come to light a fire in the hearth yet.

 

Barry chased the warmth of the blankets and caused Lisa to squeal when his cold feet rubbed up against hers. They struggled like children play-fighting for a second before the earliness of the hour caught up to them, made them indolent and they declared a truce and sought refuge from the cold, huddled together under the blanket.

 

Not a moment too soon either. Only a minute after they’d quietened did a maid enter the room and start building the fire. Barry would have been mortified if she’d caught them tussling and assumed it was something else. In hindsight, he supposed it would have bolstered their deception though, if the sheets weren’t enough.

 

Barry and Lisa stared at each other, bundled up under the blankets, holding still and biting their lips to hold back giggles as the maid went about her business unaware that the others in the room weren’t asleep.

 

When the door finally shut, quietly so as not to wake the room’s occupants, Barry let a huff of amusement escape him as Lisa sat up and laughed aloud and carefree. She stretched leisurely and then flopped back onto the bed.

 

She turned to him, her tresses spread about her on the pillow like a halo. “Did you sleep well?”

 

He had actually and he told Lisa as much. It was nice having another body in his bed, the added warmth staving off the winter’s cold. He liked hearing the sounds of another person when he woke up disorientated in the middle of the night, their soft breathing reminding him he wasn’t alone. He could get used to it. He knew Lisa would want to return to her own room the coming night though.

 

Lisa breached the small distance between them to bop him on the nose. With a teasing lilt she asked, “You don’t feel I’ve impugned your virtue?”

 

Barry rolled his eyes. Sleeping with Lisa had been like sleeping with the sister he never had. Completely sexless.

 

Barry sat up and slid from the bed, taking up the robe the maid had left to warm in front of the fire and wrapping it tightly around himself.

 

“Shall we dress? I’m famished.”

 

 

***

 

 

Barry waited for Lisa outside her room while she dressed and they entered the hall together. They went first to stand in front of Henry’s seat at the head of the dining table. He was surrounded on either side by his most trusted and loyal noblemen. Barry couldn’t help but notice that Joseph West was among them, though Iris was conspicuously absent from further down the table where the younger lords and ladies were seated.

 

His father looked more content than Barry had seen him since Nora died. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders that Barry had not realised he’d been carrying until that moment. He looked from Barry to Lisa and back again, and their obvious happiness only made him smile wider.

 

“My son,” he began, “I am proud of you. I know this is not how you planned your life, but I hope you will find happiness in this union nevertheless.”

 

Barry looked to Lisa. Within a week she had become his closest friend and confidant. He had no doubt that the coming years – whatever they may bring – would be enrichened by her presence.

 

“I’m sure I will, my king.”

 

Henry turned next to Lisa and, taking her hand, said, “Welcome, daughter.”

 

Barry watched the tears well up in her eyes and, just as quickly, be pulled back from spilling as she composed herself.

 

“Thank you, father.” She stumbled over the name as though it was foreign to her tongue. “I hope to never make you regret this decision.”

 

“I don’t think I ever could.” Henry released her hand then and dismissed them with a nod in the direction of their seats. “Go, break your fast first. We’ll talk business later.”

 

They headed further down the long table and it was too late by the time Barry realised that Lisa was leading them to where her brother and his friends were seated.

 

“Hey, it’s the newlyweds!” Sara crowed as they approached and lifted her glass to toast them. “To your health and happiness!” Mick mirrored her action in his usual lusty fashion and downed his drink in one long swallow. Leonard just watched on in amusement, neither partaking nor rebuking his companions.

 

Lisa made a show of curtsying in front of the trio before taking a seat beside Sara and immediately jumping into animated conversation. It left only the seat beside Leonard empty and Barry took it reluctantly. He reminded himself – not for the first time – that getting along with her brother would make Lisa happy. Barry could suffer his company for half an hour a day if it meant pleasing his wife.

 

“Sara says I owe you an apology for last night.” Leonard said, watching his sister but directing his statement to Barry. “I still maintain it was a harmless, amusing prank.”

 

Barry bowed his head over his plate, moving the food around aimlessly with his fork. Leonard’s not-quite apology grated more than if he’d said nothing at all.

 

“I hate you.”

 

“So you’ve said,” replied Leonard, mopping up the meal’s sauces with a heel of bread.

 

They lapsed into a not particularly comfortable silence for the rest of breakfast and Barry was hyper-aware of Leonard’s presence so close to him, being oh so careful not to brush their arms or thighs together or touch as they reached to refill their plates and cups. It was maddening.

 

When all had been served and plates were close to being emptied, Henry stood and the room fell quiet.

 

“I have an announcement,” he said, “and I think you all should hear it.

 

“I have not ruled this kingdom as I should have since the death of my beloved Nora. You have all suffered because of this,” his eyes sought out Barry’s in the crowded hall, “not least of all my own son. Though I cannot change what has happened in the past, know that I am regretful of my behaviour. I can only seek to lead you more competently in the future.

 

“I have allowed our community here to stagnate – but no more. Among other things, I will be bringing on new staff. For our newly extended family’s comfort, you understand, and for the enrichment of castle life. We are in sore need of new blood to keep this kingdom successful and innovative.

 

“I am privileged to have been born into the position I was, and that privilege entails certain responsibilities. In the coming years, I wish to be the very spirit of noblesse oblige. It is high time I gave back to a kingdom that has given me so much.”

 

A wave of murmurs swept through the great hall at the end of Henry’s proclamation. Barry was surprised but pleased by his father’s decision. Though Nora’s loss could never be forgotten and would weigh heavily on them for the rest of their lives, Barry rejoiced to see his father recommit himself to their kingdom. The Allen territories had always enjoyed prosperity but their management had suffered in recent times despite Barry’s best endeavours to fill his father’s role.

 

Henry was soon occupied with a constant stream of court-affiliated personages approaching him to discuss what his decision meant for them and the kingdom. Barry hung back. He did wish to speak to his father about these new arrangements but it could wait until later.

 

Leonard leant into Barry’s space. “I hope your father doesn’t feel like he needs to make special accommodations just for Lisa and myself. We’ve survived well enough this long without needing to be pampered.”

 

Barry gave Leonard’s remark consideration for a moment. Seeing how Henry doted on Lisa as though she was his own child, Barry had no doubt he did want to spoil her as a father should but he did not believe that was the main motivation for Henry’s decision. “No, it’s more than that.”

 

“Good,” Leonard said, something like relief in his voice. “I am indebted to you enough as it is.”

 

“Are you though? I married your sister, we’re more than even as per the terms of my father’s offer.”

 

“True.” Leonard looked to his sister, smiling and carefree as she and Sara teased Mick about something or other. “You could have been cruel or even just indifferent to her though – would have been justified in it as well – and you aren’t. That means everything to me.”

 

Barry felt a pang of sadness for the way the Snart siblings had been raised. “People aren’t as cold-hearted as you seem always to assume.”

 

Leonard looked on Barry, his pity mirrored back on him. “And people aren’t as virtuous and good as you think. Everyone has an ulterior motive.”

 

“What’s yours then?”

 

“You may find out.” Leonard paused. “One day.”

 

Leonard’s evasion reminded Barry that while they might not be enemies, they certainly weren’t friends. His new brother-in-law was nothing but a vexation he wished to be rid of. “Hopefully you’ll not be around long enough for me to find out.”

 

Leonard laid his hand over his heart, mocking injury. “You wound me, Barry.”

 

“You don’t care a wit what I think of you,” said Barry, wiping his mouth with a serviette and rising to leave, “you’ve made that abundantly clear.”

 

“If only you knew.”

 

As intriguing as that comment was, their discussion was cut short by Henry’s appearance behind Leonard. Time had gotten away from Barry as he traded words with Leonard and he was surprised to see that the hall was now almost empty.

 

“You two seem to be getting along,” remarked Henry.

 

“Your son hasn’t threatened me with bodily harm today so I suppose we are making progress,” Leonard said with a smile as Barry spluttered beside him. “How was your speech taken?”

 

“Favourably, for the most part.” Barry watched Henry take Leonard’s measure as he rose from the table, a contemplative expression on his face. “You are well travelled, are you not, Leonard?”

 

Leonard shrugged. “Less than some, more than most.”

 

Henry nodded thoughtfully. “You have seen how other kingdoms operate then.” Leonard confirmed he had. “I would like your input into how we can improve, what changes need to be made. Could we perhaps meet later?”

 

Leonard understood a dismissal when he heard one. He said, “It would be my pleasure, your majesty,” and with a bow excused himself.

 

Barry watched him go until he disappeared from the room and then turned to his father. “I am glad to see you somewhat back to your old self.”

 

Henry began walking and Barry followed him. “Something about your marriage has invigorated me. I know it is not a proper union, but it has awakened in me ideas about our legacy.” It was easy to keep pace with Henry as he walked, their heights and strides alike now. Barry remembered a time when it was not so, when Henry would either have to slow down so they could walk side-by-side or Barry would have to jog every other step to keep up.

 

“I do not want to leave this country any worse off than when it was given to me,” continued Henry after a beat. “You deserve better than that, my son. When I am called to judgement, as surely one day I must be, I want to be able to stand there with my head held high and tell them I left the world a better place for my son than the one I grew up in.”

 

Barry had suspected as much, but was curious to hear the full extent of his father’s plans. “You are thinking not only of castle staff then.”

 

“No,” Henry confirmed. “As I lay in bed last night, unable to sleep for all the excitement and happiness welling inside me, I imagined our kingdom enriched with art, philosophy, the sciences. When people seek for knowledge, let them speak of the Allen kingdom in reverence.”

 

Barry clapped his father on the back. Henry’s enthusiasm was infectious but Barry knew it must be tempered with realism so that it did not burn too bright too soon and then vanish. “Small steps first, father. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

 

“Indeed, my son.” Henry looked upon him proudly. “You are wise beyond your years. There is a first step to my plan and it is already in motion.”

 

 

***

 

 

A week later an unknown youth arrived on horseback. He came riding in in particular disarray, his shoulder-length hair wild and unbound and his clothes decidedly too informal for the meeting he was arriving for. Nevertheless, he immediately showed a buoyant enthusiasm that couldn’t help but charm Barry.

 

Introducing them, Henry explained, “Francisco is to act as your squire, Barry.”

 

Francisco stepped forward and pumped Barry’s hand like he was bringing up water.

 

“Everyone just calls me Cisco. I hope you will too, your highness.”

 

“Then you must call me Barry.”

 

Cisco had come from the south. He was untrained in the martial arts that Barry had been raised with but that did not mean he couldn’t fight. He told Barry of the way they play in his country, using the momentum of the body itself instead of swords and shields to move quickly to parry and dodge attacks. He displayed for Barry this technique and it was as fluid and graceful as dancing.

 

Mick and Sara laughed and hollered from the sidelines as Barry attempted to mimic the actions unsuccessfully.

 

It soon became apparent that Cisco had been recruited not only to act as squire to Barry, but for his particular knowledge of many surprising things, all the way from machines to philosophy to mythology. The kingdom he hailed from was on a trading route and from a young age he had accumulated knowledge like other children collect bruises. He became Barry’s informal tutor, teaching him the newest learnings from the wider world.

 

But perhaps more importantly (at least to Barry), he became Barry’s friend.

 

 

***

 

 

Lisa and Barry were playing a card game in the library when Leonard approached.

 

Barry felt his whole body tense – his ingrained response to Leonard’s presence now. One part of him wanted to flee while the other wanted to fight.

 

Leonard bent down and Lisa presented her cheek to him to kiss.

 

“Good day, sister. Are you keeping out of trouble?”

 

“Never, Lenny,” Lisa beamed. “You’re well aware of that.”

 

Barry placed a card down with unnecessary force, staring fixedly at their game rather than the newcomer. Leonard could see his sister anytime, yet it always seemed he sought her out when she was with Barry which he could only surmise was because he knew it riled Barry up so.

 

Leonard stayed bent down and whispered into Lisa’s ear, “And how is your paramour?”

 

Lisa studied Barry’s posture, the surliness she had no doubt grown used to whenever her brother entered a room, and answered, “A little grouchy for some reason.”

 

Leonard smirked and had the audacity to take a chair at their table. “I wonder why that could be.”

 

Barry could not abide it any longer. He sat his cards facedown, crossed his arms and muttered petulantly, “I’m right here.”

 

“Oh, he has a voice!” Leonard’s mock surprise only made the roiling of Barry’s gut and the blush on his cheek intensify. “How novel. And here I thought all he could do was glare and gnash his teeth.”

 

Lisa whacked her brother on the arm. “Stop it, Lenny. You’re being mean.”

 

“What do you want, Leonard?” Barry asked, exasperated.

 

Leonard’s gaze roved over Barry’s face and Barry felt his skin prickle under the attention.

 

“Is it so unbelievable that I enjoy your company?”

 

“Yes,” Barry answered blandly.

 

Some emotion flashed across Leonard’s face then that Barry refused to think too much about. He already dedicated too much of his day to thoughts of Leonard, he needed to reign it in when he could. Barry was spared from whatever Leonard was about to say in reply by Mick and Sara entering the room in their usual explosive way.

 

“C’mon, boss,” Sara said by way of greeting. Barry wondered, not for the first time, what her past was. She didn’t behave at all like someone raised in a castle. Mick, while rough around the edges, comported himself like a knight but Sara seemed to show no inclination for the etiquette required around royalty. It was charming – as Lisa’s quirks were also charming – but it did make Barry wary of her. He could not rely upon convention to anticipate what she would say or do at any moment. Case in point: she grabbed Leonard roughly by the arm and hauled him from his chair. “Time to train before you embarrass yourself.”

 

Barry and Lisa looked on in amusement as Leonard was dragged bodily from the room, his protests going unheeded by his companions.

 

 

***

 

 

Sara had been keeping Lisa company leading up to the wedding, but being kept from the training field made her irritable. Therefore, several ladies of noble birth from the surrounding estates were invited to move to the castle to see how acting as ladies-in-waiting suited them. Manners dictated that such an invitation should be sent to all eligible maidens, including Iris West. Barry felt a pang in his heart for the distress it would surely cause her. Naturally she declined.

 

In the end only two women took up the offer: Shawna Baez and Caitlin Snow.

 

The former lady got on splendidly with Lisa, the two of them sharing the same mischievous streak. The latter… not so much. Barry had known Caitlin’s parents all his life, Caitlin as well, she being a couple of years older than him. Though they were only a middling family, they were exceedingly formal and had raised Caitlin as a proper lady. In Barry’s estimation, she knew more of how to behave appropriately at court and how to comport oneself as royalty than he did. He had no doubt her parents had pushed her into the lady-in-waiting position as a way of socially advancing, regardless of her own opinions on the matter.

 

If Lisa had been a “proper” princess, it most likely would have been a fine arrangement. But Lisa was anything but formal and more often than not behaved like some whirling dervish of energy and impudence. Barry could visibly see Caitlin grow more and more annoyed as Lisa bucked social convention and did things, as she ever did, her way.

 

By the end of the first week Caitlin was spending the majority of her time shadowing Barry and Cisco, finding them more palatable than the princess she was meant to be keeping company. Lisa didn’t take offence and she and Shawna would come find them out several times a day in what Barry considered a very diplomatic move.

 

Caitlin and Cisco seemed particularly well matched in their knowledge and complementary in their demeanours. Barry often delighted in just standing back and listening to them bounce ideas off each other, Caitlin always maintaining a very reserved exterior while Cisco grew more and more excitable and kinetic.

 

Everyone settled into this new arrangement with very little conflict and soon it felt as if things had always been this way. Barry in particular welcomed the new arrivals as they served as further buffer between himself and Leonard. The man seemed once again to be everywhere Barry was, always watching.

 

“The wedding’s over, why can’t he just go away?” Barry complained to his father one day.

 

Henry smiled indulgently. “Because your wife wants him here. Also, his knowledge has been quite invaluable to me in my planning. He’s not doing any harm to anyone. “

 

“Only driving me to madness,” Barry muttered petulantly.

 

“Talk to him, my son. You may find you share some common interests.”

 

Their only common interest was Lisa’s wellbeing. In everything else, Barry was sure, they were diametrically opposed. “I find that highly unlikely.”

 

 

***

 

 

Lisa approached Barry one evening after they’d concluded dinner. She touched him gently on the arm to get his attention and drew him away from the crowd leaving the dining hall.

 

“I need to speak with you,” she said. “Could we go for a walk?”

 

As foreboding as her words sounded, Barry was struck by a sudden sense of undeserved optimism. Things had been going so well; whatever Lisa may say, he could face it. “Of course.”

 

They walked the draughty corridors of the castle in silence until the sounds of other people had faded away and all that could be heard was their soft footfalls.

 

“What troubles you, Lisa?”

 

She stopped then, in the middle of the corridor, side by side with him, and facing him, took his hands in hers. “Darling Barry, I appreciate your loyalty to me, I do. You have the kindest heart. That’s what makes me feel so terrible about this.”

 

Fear lit deep within Barry and something of the suspicion and prosecution he had felt before Lisa’s arrival ghosted through him. His conscious mind tamped it down quickly, not allowing himself to become victim of his own imagination. All would be well. He squared his feet, held fast in his spot and squeezed Lisa’s hand to give her the fortitude to go on. “What is it, Lisa? You can feel safe to tell me anything.”

 

“I am in love with someone.”

 

It took Barry a moment to process her words and when he did, a wave of relief rushed over him. Of all the possibilities his mind had conjured – Leonard using Lisa as a pawn in some even more overarching scheme to upset the Allen kingdom, for example – something so minor and innocent had never crossed his mind.

 

“You are? With whom?”

 

“Your squire,” she admitted with trepidation, not meeting his eyes.

 

“Cisco?”

 

Lisa’s eyes were pleading when she looked up at him. “Please don’t be angry.”

 

“Why would I be angry?” Barry asked, genuinely puzzled. He loved Lisa and Cisco both and wanted only what was best for them. “I’m sorry if I’ve given that impression. I’m happy for you. I didn’t want you to be alone forever.”

 

“Oh, Barry!” she cried, taking his face in her hands. “I wasn’t alone, don’t ever think that. I had you, Lenny, your father. I think of you as my family now.” Barry warmed to hear her say as much, pleased her feelings mirrored his own. “Cisco is just the icing on the cake. I only wish you would feel comfortable following your heart too.”

 

“Perhaps,” Barry answered, noncommittedly, “in the future.”

 

He didn’t think he ever would. He still maintained it would not be fair or right to pursue Iris, even if she knew that his arrangement with Lisa was only for show. He would never be able to give her the rank and security that she deserved, nor appear with her in public in the way he would like. She would have to be treated like a secret. It wouldn’t be right.

 

And it would be the same for any woman he may find himself attracted to. A relationship with Barry would mean nothing good for them. Why would he ever subject a woman to that life?

 

No, better for him to remain a bachelor in spirit if not on paper. He had an abundance of love from his family and friends and that would have to do to sustain him through his life.

 

“Now,” said Lisa, threading her arm through Barry’s and leading them back the way they’d come. “I need you to do me a favour.”

 

“Anything,” Barry was quick to assure.

 

“Please, for the love of God, tell Cisco he’s free to pursue me. That our marriage is fake and that there is nothing romantic or physical between us. He’s been so skittish.”

 

Barry laughed. “I think I can do that.” He thought back now to Lisa’s interactions with Cisco and kicked himself for not seeing the mutual attraction sooner. In hindsight, Lisa’s flirting and Cisco’s awkward fumbling were glaringly obvious. “Wait, is this why you were always coming to visit Caitlin, Cisco and I?”

 

“Oh, Barry,” Lisa lay her head on his shoulder and patted him mockingly, “how can you be so clever and so dense at the same time?”

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

Barry spoke with Cisco the next morning as they were saddling up their mounts to go for a ride. He reckoned his own mortification at having to lay out the truth of his and Lisa's arrangement was surpassed only by Cisco's. They barely met eyes the whole time Barry explained.

 

“So,” he finally concluded, his cheeks burning as he paid great attention to tightening the girth, “if you have more than a passing fondness for Lady Lisa, please feel free to pursue it. She has indicated to me that she would not be opposed.”

 

Cisco cleared his throat from behind his own mount. “And you are quite comfortable with this arrangement?” Unlike Lisa, it seemed Cisco was as backwards at being forwards as Barry. Nevertheless, Barry could sense him shake off his inhibitions in an endeavour to make sure this truly was tolerable to Barry. “You would not feel offended if I courted your wife?”

 

“We are husband and wife in name only,” Barry assured him. “Honestly, I consider her more like a younger sister.”

 

Barry rounded his horse to stand between the two mounts where Cisco currently was. Barry wanted him to see the sincerity on his face, hear the truthfulness of his words. He wanted Lisa to have what he could not and that seemed to depend entirely on how persuasive Barry could be right now.

 

Cisco rubbed at his chin, still not convinced. “What about your reputation? Won’t people gossip?”

 

That was an easy question to answer. “Anyone whose opinion I hold any stock in already knows the extent of our charade.” Barry paused, an aspect of this tangled situation occurring to him at that moment. “I just ask that you please be discrete outside of the castle walls. Our situation may become precarious if the truth reaches King Snart.”

 

Barry didn’t know if that was something they actually did need to worry about, but from how everyone spoke about Lewis Snart it seemed it might be. He may have been satisfied with the deal Leonard had brokered as it was, but Barry suspected they might incur his ire if he found out he had been played and the marriage nothing but a formality that allowed Lisa freedom to pursue her own life and desires.

 

This entreaty seemed to sway Cisco, as though in that sign of wariness Barry proved to not just be jumping forward without forethought.

 

“I understand completely. You have my word: I will be the very epitome of caution.”

 

“You’re a good friend, Cisco,” Barry said, clasping Cisco on the shoulder and then getting his leg up into the stirrup and swinging into the saddle.

 

“It’s the very least I can do.” Cisco mounted and they urged the horses forward, accelerating to a trot once they were out of the stables. “I think I’m about to owe you for all my future happiness.”

 

 

***

 

 

Cisco and Lisa’s courtship was of endless amusement to the royal inner circle who knew about the fake wedding.

 

“She’s going to eat him alive,” Sara declared over dinner one night with a lascivious smile.

 

Cisco and Lisa were standing by the hearth, conversing, their faces close and their fingers brushing together every so often as though accidentally. Every time Cisco made Lisa laugh, his smile radiated triumph as if it was the most important thing he’d ever accomplished in his life.

 

Barry rolled his eyes. He didn’t deny that Lisa had Cisco wrapped around her little finger but it wasn’t as if she was simply using him; it was extraordinarily clear that the affection went both ways equally.

 

Sitting back in his chair, Leonard scowled. “I don’t know that I approve of this.”

 

“Lighten up, princess,” Mick said, whacking him on the back, “she’s just havin’ fun.”

 

Leonard glared at Mick as he righted himself in his seat. “But if Lewis were to catch wind of it…”

 

Barry, eavesdropping not intentionally but only by virtue of being seated close to the trio from the Snart kingdom, felt vindicated that he’d thought that very thing could be a possibility when speaking with Cisco days ago.

 

“He won’t,” Sara assured. She pulled the knife she always carried with her from her boot and jammed it into the table. “And God help him if he does and tries anything.”

 

 

***

 

 

Barry entered the library, looking for a book he needed for his studies.

 

He was blinded temporarily after coming out of the dark corridor by the midmorning light shining directly through the eastward facing windows and had made it halfway across the room before his vision cleared.

 

Leonard was sitting under the window, taking full advantage of the sunlight to read. Barry knew from experience that the late morning rays coming in through the window’s glass made that spot a good deal warmer than anywhere else in the room and had availed himself of this benefit many mornings before the upheaval of Leonard’s arrival. Leonard seemed to favour the library above any other room in the castle and Barry – who was still trying to avoid him as much as possible but loved the library as well – was forever irritated by this fact.

 

The sight of Leonard this morning made him scowl. He should have anticipated that the man would be here but he’d slept badly the night before and had been out of sorts since waking up. Though it was not their fault, Lisa and Cisco’s obvious happiness as a couple did awaken conflicting emotions in Barry. He did not begrudge them their joy, but he did bemoan the dearth of romantic affection he saw in his own future. This melancholy had kept him up the previous night, hounded by thoughts of what might have been if Leonard had never darkened their door; or if he’d felt romantic love towards Lisa; or if he was more willing to compromise his moral integrity and take a mistress.

 

Ultimately, he always came to the conclusion that his current circumstances were the best he could hope for and, in some ways, a blessing. He had saved Lisa from a marriage that would have been loveless at best and violent at worst. Now she was like a sister to him. Her presence had been the impetus Henry needed to think about improving their kingdom, and that decision had gifted him with the friendship of Cisco and Caitlin. Instead of damning Iris to a relationship that would be neither officially recognised nor publicly displayable, he had set her free to find her own happiness. All-in-all, he had done the good and right thing at every turn.

 

He considered how neatly events had unfolded, how each incident seemed only to increase the peace and happiness around him, and couldn’t help but wonder why he had been denied the one thing he had always dreamt of: a great romance.

 

He would never voice these feelings aloud but they fermented within him and some days – like today – brought on a black mood that he tried his best to conceal.

 

So, when he saw Len, curled up on the seat near the window, bathed in light and looking surprisingly gentle this morning, he felt these emotions well up in him suddenly and he turned around and fled the room, lest he do something unbecoming.

 

He was just closing the door behind him when a hand shot through the gap and grabbed his arm.

 

Leonard did not pull him backwards or to a stop, though. No, he followed Barry through the door and when Barry’s feet dug in like a cantankerous horse, he dragged him forward. “Come with me,” he said, “we’re going to sort this out once and for all.”

 

“There’s nothing you can say that will make me hate you less,” Barry said, but in the end he allowed Leonard to lead him down corridors and stairs, curious what he had in mind.

 

They ended up in the courtyard, where the martial arts were practised. Leonard left Barry to stand in the middle of the training field while he went and dug through the gear left haphazardly near the wall of the castle. Eventually he freed two wooden training swords in decent condition from the rabble and threw one to Barry who caught it, only fumbling a little in surprise.

 

Barry had been trained from a young age to handle a sword but had never really had to use the skill practically. The wooden swords were largely harmless but Barry knew from experience they could leave vicious bruising if one wasn’t quick or alert enough to parry a blow.

 

“Now,” Leonard said, taking his own sword in hand and assuming a fighting stance, “hit me until you get some of that anger out.”

 

Barry stared at him stupidly for a moment. He couldn’t be serious. His plan had been to just let Barry hit him with a wooden stick? What good would that do? It solved nothing.

 

But the more Barry thought about it, the more he wanted to do it anyway. The emotions inside him often felt too much for his body to hold and he knew of no way to ease the pressure except time. Perhaps an explosive display of violence would be more effective.

 

Mind made up, Barry charged Leonard, the light wooden sword swinging easily. They traded blows for several minutes and Barry was chagrined to find that Leonard was skilled. All of his attacks were parried and his growing frustration at being unable to land a hit only make Barry more sloppy and reckless.

 

Eventually, when his breath was ragged and his heart was pounding in his chest, Barry lowered his sword, stepped back and yelled in frustration. “Everywhere I go, you’re there. Your eyes on me, always watching me. Why can’t you just go away?”

 

Leonard leant on his sword like a cane, a faint sheen of sweat gathered along his temple. “Why do you hate me so much?” He asked in frustration. “I only did what I had to do to keep Lisa safe. You know her now; you’d do exactly the same if you were in my situation.”

 

Barry didn’t have an argument for that. He would, in a heartbeat.

 

But he wasn’t ready to let the argument flounder. For the first time since Leonard had walked through the doors of the Great Hall, Barry felt like he had agency in what was happening. Berating Leonard felt like a righteous release for all this ugly anger and fear inside him.

 

“Then why were you so callous when you first arrived?” Barry demanded.

 

“Everything I did was to test you.” Leonard’s tone, genial but like explaining something simple to a child, caused Barry’s hackles to rise. “Do you think I’d have let you marry Lisa if you could be provoked to violence easily? If you let me talk about her like she was property?”

 

The logic of Leonard’s responses made perfect sense and Barry hated it. He wanted someone he could blame for his position and Leonard was making it hard on him.

 

With no points left to argue, Barry resorted to his sword.

 

Leonard was quick to raise his own weapon to block the swing. He was quick and had, Barry realised with a skip of his heart, been going very easy on Barry. Now it took every ounce of Barry’s skills to deflect the blows raining down on him, driving him ever backwards. Leonard forced him across the courtyard, adrenaline coursing through his body, until Barry was cornered under the shade of the stables. No one was around at this time of day to witness their tomfoolery, most probably having assembled in the great hall for lunch.

 

Barry lost his footing on a mound of straw, his concentration straying from the fight to keep himself upright, and took a hit to his upper arm that hurt like a whip’s sting. Pain and anger clouded his vision and he lunged at Leonard. The swords were quickly forgotten as Barry grabbed hold of Leonard’s shirt and slammed him up against a stable door. It gave out behind him and they both found themselves tumbling to the floor, their fall only slightly cushioned by the straw lining the dirt floor.

 

For a second they lay there on the ground, the wind knocked out of them but very quickly Barry was spurred on again and they were tousling on the ground. There seemed to be limbs everywhere and Barry wasn’t even sure what he was hoping to accomplish at this point, only that he knew whatever they were doing was soothing an ache in him that nothing else could touch. He suspected he’d be a riddle of bruises in the morning but the knowledge that Leonard would probably be in the same condition pleased him.

 

Then, just as suddenly as this manic tussle had begun, Leonard’s hands were in his hair and Barry’s mouth was on his and it was frantic and desperate, a different kind of battle than the one they’d been indulging in moments before. Perhaps it should have caused Barry to retreat but he found this new development was just as effective a release as the fighting had been. His body felt aflame and he bit at Leonard’s lips, happy at the copper taste on his tongue.

 

Leonard, with his heavier build and experience, eventually got them flipped so he was on top and when he ground down against Barry’s body, Barry’s mind whited out. Every foul and unwanted emotion that had been bubbling inside him suddenly was gone, replaced only with lust. He was surprised and almost frightened by the intensity of it, like nothing he’d ever experienced before in his life. Barry rolled his hips upwards and sucked in a breath at the wave of pleasure that surged through him at the contact.

 

Barry was hard, suddenly and surprisingly hard, and at that moment he didn’t care. He didn’t care that it was Leonard above him, that he’d never have an epic romance like in the sagas or that a week ago he’d resigned himself to a celibate life. He didn’t care that they were on the dirty floor of the stable and that anyone could walk in at any moment and catch them. He chased his pleasure, hands on Leonard’s hips pulling him closer, delicious friction making him want nothing more than the grind and slide between them.

 

His climax came almost as a surprise, sneaking up on him like a thief, sooner than he ever would have expected, and stealing his breath away.

 

Dazed and pliant, Barry lay there as Leonard continued to rut against him, held up on his elbows, eyes clenched shut, as he chased his own climax. It was a surreal experience and Barry felt as if he were outside himself, watching from a distance, feeling none of the things he rightly should be feeling. Then Leonard leant down to kiss him and Barry had enough wits about him to turn his face away.

 

Leonard’s orgasm came quietly, announced only by a low moan and as soon as he was done, Barry pushed him off. His legs felt jittery as he stood and backed away, never letting his eyes stray from Leonard who still lay on his back in the straw, eyes closed, breathe ragged and arms spread out like the messiah. The sticky unpleasantness in Barry’s trousers as he moved was an immediate reminder of his shame.

 

Barry righted his clothes angrily, trying and failing to brush the straw from his back, and glared at Leonard. The other man simply looked up him from his sprawl on the floor, eyes heavy-lidded and a slight smirk pulling at his sated smile.

 

“This won’t happen again,” Barry announced resolutely.

 

He stalked away, an uncomfortable mixture of ashamed and aroused, eager to be anywhere but in Leonard’s presence.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

It was less than a day before it happened again.

 

 

***

 

 

Barry hurried back to his quarters, shamefaced, ducking into rooms if he saw anyone coming his way. He felt as though his trespass must be writ large against his forehead and that, if anyone saw him, they’d know immediately what he had done.

 

Once in his room, Barry hurriedly changed out of his soiled small things and threw the pants into the fire. It was a blatant waste of a perfectly good pair of underwear that he regretted as soon as he’d done it, yet, at the same time, they would only have served as a lingering reminder of his indiscretion.

 

Newly dressed – though feeling no less soiled by his own weaknesses – Barry paced his room like a caged beast. He was angry – angry at Leonard but mostly angry at himself.

 

This wasn’t how his father had raised him. This wasn’t even living up to the promises he’d made himself. He’d allowed base vices to guide his hand – wrath and lust.

 

Even though Lisa told him she didn’t expect him to honour their marriage vows, he held himself to that moral standard. He had cheated, been deceitful and, he had to admit, was not likely to confess his sin to anyone anytime soon – not even the local priest who had officiated his marriage.

 

He’d been raised a gentleman and yet he’d rutted in the dirt with Leonard like a base animal. He didn’t like to think of himself like that, the thought was abhorrent. He was a prince, not some rough beast enslaved by its desires. He had debased himself by his actions that day and disrespected Leonard as well, as much as the fallen prince had seemed to show no regret for their transgression.

 

Eventually he ran out of material to berate himself with and that’s when his thoughts turned in a dangerous direction. The memories came rolling in, embellished by his imagination. The more he tried not to think about it, the harder it became to banish from his mind. It was if he was in a maze of mirrors and, wherever he turned, he could not escape the torments of the pleasure he had felt.

 

The weight of Leonard’s body against his own was the strongest memory, that feeling of being pinned down that should rightly conjure feelings of panic but did the very opposite. He had taken enjoyment from being held down – carnal enjoyment – and even now the thought of it excited him in a way he was ashamed of. More than once Barry had to splash his face with cold water to calm himself.

 

When it came time for supper, Barry sent one of the servants to inform his father that he was feeling poorly and would not be coming down to eat with the rest of the household. Food was brought to him instead but he picked at it listlessly.

 

By that evening a bruise had formed on his upper arm where Leonard had struck him with his sword. Standing in front of his dresser mirror, Barry pressed his fingers into the mottled purple mark and hissed at the flare of pain it caused. He found with dismay that the ache evoked a sympathetic response: one of arousal.

 

Barry got into bed and willed himself to sleep before his baser instincts could get the better of him.

 

***

 

The next morning Barry bucked up his courage and emerged from his room. He couldn’t stay hidden forever.

 

The household was already assembled in the great hall when he arrived and he moved hurriedly to take his usual seat near his father.

 

“Good morning, son,” Henry greeted, looking Barry over. “Are you well?”

 

“Much better, thank you.” Barry couldn’t quite meet his eye. “It seems to have only been a passing illness.”

 

Henry smiled widely and Barry felt guilty for lying to him. He couldn’t confess what had transpired though, the thought itself was mortifying, and so the lie would have to suffice.

 

“I’m glad,” Henry said.” There are some matters I would appreciate your input on later today.”

 

Barry began to eat the breakfast served to him but he couldn’t help searching out Leonard from among those assembled. He was with his sister, Sara and Mick as usual. He smiled unselfconsciously at something that had been said and Barry noted how much of a difference that was from when he’d first arrived. Barry didn’t think his face had shifted from that perpetual scowl until Lisa had arrived safely, and it had only added to his perceived surly demeanour. His smile, though, was kind, Barry might describe it as gentle even, if he was being generous.

 

But as he was smiling, Leonard suddenly winced and his hand shot to his lips. Barry was not so far away that he couldn’t see the dash of blood on Leonard’s finger when he pulled it away and Barry was instantly and embarrassing aware of the cut that marred Leonard’s lip that he had not noticed until then – and of who had put it there.

 

His eyes darted back to his food and he pulled apart his roll nervously. Without really thinking about it, Barry’s fingers sought out the bruise on his shoulder and pressed against it. Barry had never deliberately wounded someone before but he had bitten down on Leonard’s lip with the sole intention of hurting him. He remembered with shame the pleasure he’d felt at the taste of blood on his tongue. Now, he could barely conjure even a shadow of the rage he’d felt yesterday. It was gone like smoke in the wind.

 

The bite had certainly put a stop to the kiss that started it all. Barry’s eyes strayed to Leonard’s lips then, the wound already scabbed over again as he said something or other to Mick. Barry had never been kissed the way Len had kissed him. He’d traded shy, stolen kisses when he was still but a child with Iris, but it had never felt like that. The kiss had been like lighting the fuse of a firework, impossible to take back once done, and all-consuming.

 

Leonard looked from mopping up some sauce on his plate with a heel of bread and Barry realised too late he’d been caught staring. Barry quickly turned away but he didn’t miss the smirk that crossed Leonard’s face.

 

 

***

 

 

He probably should have expected to be ambushed. At the very least he should have realised he wasn’t going to be able to evade Leonard forever, not after the way the man had so persistently dogged his steps before the wedding.

 

He did startle though as Leonard emerged from the shadows of a darkened stairwell that evening as he passed on the way to his rooms. His momentary fright gave Leonard the opportunity to corner him and manipulate his path until his back hit the cool stone of the corridor’s walls.

 

“Good evening, Barry,” Leonard drawled.

 

“Leonard,” said Barry with a curt nod of his head. “How can I help you this evening?”

 

“I thought we might resume our” –he cocked his head to the side—“ _conversation_ from yesterday.”

 

Barry felt an embarrassed flush burn through his cheeks, knowing exactly what Leonard meant. “And what if I said I didn’t want to?”

 

Leonard took a few steps back and extended his hands to either side of him. “That is your prerogative and, if that is truly how you feel, I won’t assail you further.”

 

Barry leant into the wall, the rough stone pushing back against him and considered Leonard.

 

Surely it would be a mistake to stay; the tempestuous state of his mind since their last encounter was assuredly proof of that. If he walked away now, he could chalk yesterday up to a long overdue confrontation that had gone slightly and unfortunately awry. To indulge a second time would be a deliberate transgression against his ethics and his marriage vows, an insult to Lisa – and with her brother of all people.

 

And yet, he wanted it nevertheless.

 

Why shouldn’t he get what he wanted for once?

 

“I would not be opposed,” he said, drawing the words out, as though giving himself just a little more time would allow good sense to settle in and his answer would be somehow magically different to what was currently leaving his mouth, “to _talking_.”

 

Between one breath and the next Leonard was back in his space, even closer than he had been before, their chests almost touching and Barry could feel the heat of his body.

 

“This is more entertaining than being constantly angry with me,” his intense gaze was focussed on Barry’s lips, “isn’t it?”

 

Leonard leant in again, just as he had at the end the day before, but Barry had foreseen it this time. His palm thwarted the kiss, covering Leonard’s face from his nose down and Barry was momentarily shaken by the heat he saw in those eyes.

 

Leonard was not discouraged though, he diverted his course, nuzzling in at Barry’s throat as his hands found a hold on his waist. Barry knew he should feel relieved but instead there was just an emptiness in the pit of his stomach that soured and perverted the tendrils of desire that were beginning to snake out to the tips of his fingers and toes. So Barry let him head fall back a little too hard against the stones of the wall and relished the dull pain it caused.

 

“Spread your legs,” said Leonard into his neck and Barry complied quickly like a trained lapdog. He would feel embarrassed for it later on, but in that moment it seemed like the most perfectly natural thing to do.

 

Leonard shifted his stance too, bringing one leg in between Barry’s and Barry felt a hardness against his thigh, a perfect mirror of his own. Leonard’s mouth was wet and insistent at his throat as he began to rut against him, his hand’s slipping from Barry’s waist to his buttocks to pull him closer. Barry’s own fingers itched to do something, anything, but allowing himself any kind of agency made the whole encounter seem too deliberate and so they hung limply at his sides; but when one of Leonard’s hands slipped to his front and took hold of him through his breeches, Barry couldn’t stop himself for reaching for an anchor to steady himself and finding only Leonard’s forearms for support.

 

Barry scrunched up his eyes as the world contracted around them, all his previous worries and thoughts swept away in the waves of sensation breaking against him. He tried to thrust up against Leonard’s hand and felt Leonard’s smile against his neck as he cruelly pulled it away.

 

“Damn you,” Barry swore, but there was no heat behind it, only breathy desire.

 

Then suddenly Leonard was gone from his arms. Barry blinked stupidly for several seconds before he heard the voices echoing faintly down the corridor. The panic had barely begin to set in before he was being jerked sideways into the shadows of the stairwell.

 

Leonard’s arms wrapped around his chest and his warmth blanketed Barry’s back. Leonard pulled them further into the shadows afforded beneath the stairwell and Barry hoped against all hope it was enough to conceal them. The voices may have been like a bucket of cold water over his mental arousal but his body hadn’t quite received the message yet. He was still hard, his body flushed and his breathing ragged.

 

Barry could feel that Leonard was in the same state behind him, the firmness of his erection pressing against Barry’s buttocks. He at first chalked it up  to the haste at which they’d needed to find refuge that they were now so close, but then Leonard began a slow grind of his hips and Barry knew it was no accident.

 

“Leonard…”

 

He tried to put some distance between them without stepping from the shadows, but Leonard’s right hand pulled him closer against his body while his left came up to cover Barry’s mouth – an echo of what Barry had done to him earlier. Barry’s skin rushed with heat and any desire he had of bringing this encounter to a halt before they were discovered was quickly extinguished.

 

“Stay quiet,” Leonard whispered into the shell of Barry’s ear and then his free hand dipped lower. His deft fingers made quick work of the button on Barry’s breeches and then his hand was slipping through the flap.

 

Barry keened at that first warm touch and Leonard shushed him. His lips brushed against Barry’s earlobe like the fluttering of a moth against a window as he spoke. “If you’re too loud, I’ll have to stop.”

 

The arousal running red hot through his veins made Barry dumb and in that moment he would have done and said anything to keep Leonard touching him. “No, no,” he said, his voice breathy and wet behind Leonard’s hand. “Don’t stop.”

 

Leonard’s grip was confident as he began stroking Barry in earnest. It was so different to when Barry took himself in hand in the privacy of his room at night; the addition of a hand not his own, spiced with the danger of being caught, somehow seemed to heighten his arousal even though logically it should, he supposed, do the opposite. He didn’t want to be discovered in this base tableau and yet no incentive he could think of in this moment would make him remove Leonard’s hand from his breeches.

 

The voices grew closer and Leonard’s strokes slowed to almost nothing. It was the sweetest torture Barry had ever known when all he wanted was to reach his climax and was so damnably close. It took all his effort not make any noise of dissatisfaction or impatience as the two servants finally passed directly in front of his and Leonard’s hiding place, completely oblivious to their presence.

 

As soon as their voices began to fade into the distance, Leonard began stroking him again, hard and fast as he mouthed kisses against Barry’s throat, his own hardness insistent against Barry’s behind. Barry could do nothing but cling to the arm across his chest and bite back the moans of pleasure that threatened to spill from his lips.

 

He let his head fall back onto Leonard’s shoulder, rolling it to the side to pant against Leonard’s neck. His voice discrete, he mouthed words into Leonard’s ear as quiet as prayers. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. I’m so close.”

 

Leonard tightened his grip. Barry’s mouth opened on a moan and as it did, Leonard’s fingers slipped inside, as though to push the noises back. Barry suckled on them greedily, knowing there was no purpose to the gag now except in the heightening of Leonard’s own pleasure.

 

“You drive me to madness,” Leonard panted into his ear and then bit down where Barry’s neck met his shoulder. Barry’s exclamation was muffled by the fingers still in his mouth but the pain came in unfamiliar guise, crashing against the pleasure surging from his sex and culminating in a great wave.

 

For the second time in two days, Barry spent in his trousers like some libidinous youth.  

 

Leonard stroked him gently through the last pulses of his climax, relenting only when Barry pushed him away when the sensation became too much to bear, and then he guided him into the recess he’d previously occupied, Barry going easily with every touch, his mind fuzzy. The cold stone now at his back was a startling contrast to Leonard’s warmth and he hissed away from it, his retreat blocked by Leonard’s solid presence. Leonard’s fingers swept across Barry’s lips – quick enough Barry could have almost imagined it – and then leant in and Barry knew exactly what he was about to do and a large part of him wanted it this time. But Leonard stopped with a hand’s-breadth between them and Barry stared at his lips, entranced. He’d never noticed how generous they looked, the fullness of his upper lip so very inviting.

 

They had kissed before, just that once when fighting had melted into frottage, but it hadn’t been tender in the slightest. It had been an outpouring of Barry’s frustrations and pain and had left Leonard with the scab that now marred his lip. This time he wanted tenderness.

 

Barry drifted forward, his eyes never wavering from his goal and noticed too late Leonard’s hand rising to block him again. His breath exhaled wetly behind the palm, his tongue flicking fleetingly against Leonard’s skin as he licked his suddenly parched lips. Leonard leant in then, his eyes capturing Barry’s and holding them as he approached in the parody of a lover’s embrace, denying Barry his satisfaction and wasting the kiss against his own hand.

 

He was smirking, though not unkindly, as he withdrew, his fingers lingering against Barry’s lips before falling away.

 

“If you ever feel the need to discuss this matter further,” he said, “you know where to find me.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by the hot mess that is Telstra. It's amazing how productive you can be without internet access (or maybe not so amazing).

 

 

Barry went to bed that night feeling much less conflicted than the one before.

 

While he wasn’t entirely at ease with his actions, he could no longer say with any conviction that he wanted his and Leonard’s trysts to stop or that he regretted them. Already, less than an hour later, he craved Leonard’s hands on him again, and he desperately wanted the kiss he’d at first spurned and then been denied.

 

He had worried that pursuing a lady romantically would compromise her socially; he would only ever be able to have Lisa as his wife in public, anyone else would have to be treated like a shameful secret, like a mistress. He could never do that to someone he loved. But with Leonard it could be different. In the first place, it was purely physical, not any kind of relationship in the common sense, and certainly not the kind you would admit to in polite company. It filled a need Barry hadn’t realised he’d had until Leonard satisfied it and the prospect of learning more about this new aspect of himself thrilled Barry.

 

It could be ended easily, too, with no feelings hurt – say if Leonard were to marry. Barry would never continue their rendezvous if it was going to upset some third party.

 

He would have to tell Lisa though. In that he was resolved. It was just that even the thought of mentioning it was mortifying enough to make him drag his feet. He didn’t think she’d mind – in fact, she’d probably be pleased he was pursuing his own pleasure – but Barry admitting he had known her brother in the biblical sense seemed to cross some line of propriety. He would buck up his courage and do it, though – sooner or later.

 

His mind resolved, Barry slipped into a peaceful slumber and dreamt happy dreams.

 

 

***

 

 

The next day seemed filled with promise.

 

Barry had an extra spring in his step as he came down to breakfast. He greeted his father with a hug and talked animatedly with Cisco and Caitlin. When breakfast was served, he ate ravenously.

 

It wasn’t until the plates were cleared that the nerves hit him. Not wanting them to get the best of him, Barry stood up abruptly and walked directly to Leonard. Sara noticed his approach well before Leonard or Mick, a knowing look on her face and Barry suddenly wondered if Leonard had said anything to his friends about what had transpired between them. His face heated up and he stumbled over his own feet but Leonard had noticed Sara’s look and was now turning in Barry’s direction too and it was too late to withdraw without embarrassment.

 

“Good morning, your highness,” said Sara, slouched back in her chair with her chin cocked. “Sleep well?”

 

“Yes,” Barry answered and couldn’t keep the hint of a question out of the word, “thank you. How was your breakfast?”

 

“Oh,” drawled Sara, winking at him, “I am _very_ satisfied.”

 

“Stop it,” Leonard chastised her. He turned to Barry with a quirked eyebrow. “What do you want, Barry?”

 

Barry shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “I’d like to speak to you, if I could.”

 

Barry waited but Sara and Mick made no move to leave and give them some privacy. He looked helplessly to Leonard.

 

“Go ahead,” Leonard encouraged, “you won’t get rid of them now that you’ve wet their curiosity.”

 

Barry looked from Sara to Mick and then focussed only on Leonard. He tried to pretend it was only the two of them there.

 

“Would you like to come riding with me today?” He asked. “Perhaps in the afternoon? There are some things I’d like to discuss with you.”

 

Leonard’s eyes travelled lazily over Barry’s body and then, with a smirk, he answered, “It would be my pleasure.”

 

“Alright, I’ll meet you in the stables at 3 o’clock.”

 

As Barry was leaving the great hall to attend to his morning duties, the queerest thing happened. Mick dogged his steps and Barry thought at first they were both going in the same direction until Mick sped up once they were alone.

 

“Hey, prince,” Mick called and Barry turned around in surprise. He couldn’t remember having ever exchanged words one-on-one with the knight and so he was quite baffled.

 

“Yes, Mick? Can I help you?”

 

Mick shuffled in place in a way that was entirely unlike him. Eventually, he said, “Don’t hurt ‘im.”

 

The words came out all at once, tumbling and stumbling on his lips and it took Barry a moment to pull them apart and parse them. Once he did, he had no more idea of what Mick meant as when he’d started.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“Len,” Mick added for clarity. “Don’t hurt ‘im.”

 

“I won’t,” Barry assured tentatively, not quite sure what was happening. Then he remembered the tussle that had started all this. He’d bitten Leonard’s lip and caused it to bleed. In his defence, Leonard had hit him with his sword hard enough to bruise, but he now understood the cause of Mick’s concern. “That was only a silly thing, it won’t happen again.”

 

Mick nodded, seemingly satisfied with Barry’s response and then turned and left without another word. Barry watched him go for a few minutes, charmed by the gruff knight’s affection for his master.

 

 

***

 

Three o’clock found Barry and Cisco in the stables, brushing down the roan mare that Barry preferred for pleasure riding. She didn’t have the speed or endurance of some of the other horses but was comfortable to sit for hours on end.

 

Cisco had been quieter than usual the entire time and it put Barry on edge. Eventually he asked, “Do you want me to come, too?”

 

“I think I’ll be alright on my own.”

 

“What if he,” Cisco threw his hands up in frustration, “I don’t know, attacks you or something?”

 

“He won’t,” Barry said with confidence. Barry didn’t know exactly what they would get up to out in the woods, but he was fairly certain he needn’t be in fear of bodily harm.

 

Cisco did not have his sureness. “How do you know?”

 

“Would it ease your mind if I personally gave you my word I won’t do anything villainous?”

 

Leonard slipped into the room and Cisco jumped back in surprise, his face paling.

 

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he squeaked out.

 

“Of course not,” Leonard said, diplomatically. “You’re only looking after your friend. Just in the same way as I would have my revenge on someone if they happened to hurt Lisa.”

 

“Message received loud and clear.” Cisco turned so only Barry could see him and made an expression that was half apology and half terror. “I’ll leave you to it.”

 

He made a hasty retreat, giving Leonard a wide berth as he passed.

 

“You needn’t have scared him off,” Barry tutted once he was gone. “Cisco’s a good man.”

  
“He’s too protective.”

 

Leonard began preparing his horse to go out.

 

“Can you blame him?”

 

“No, I suppose not.” Barry felt Leonard’s eyes on him. “Though it is unwarranted; I very much doubt I’ll be the one attacking this time.”

 

They followed the usual paths through the woods in silence for the first ten minutes, the rhythmic beating of the horses’ hooves against the dirt road lulling Barry into a sense of calm. The chill of winter was still in the air but the sun flickered through the tree canopy and offered a promise of spring.

 

Leonard lead them off the main road not too far from the castle and reigned in at a clearing only a stone’s throw from the road. As Barry dismounted he surveyed the area: it wasn’t a large clearing, maybe ten metres across, the kind he’d believed as a child to be the meeting places of the fair folk. Sunlight shone through the break in the canopy created by the clearing and onto the grass and wild flowers that carpeted the ground there. Barry couldn’t help but note that he could still see the road they’d come from and that anyone passing by would be able to see them.

 

“It’s almost like you want to be caught,” he noted absentmindedly as he dismounted.

 

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Barry regretted them. They anticipated – nay, affirmed – that his and Leonard’s jaunt into the countryside wasn’t innocent in nature.

 

Leonard’s answering smile held a thousand secrets but his mouth betrayed none of them.

 

Barry had packed a blanket and a basket full of stores he’d pilfered from the larder, and he lay the former out in the middle of the clearing, taking full advantage of the mid-afternoon sun. Barry sat down and Leonard followed suit, the picnic basket between them. They each picked at the bread, cheese and cured meats as their horses cropped the grass near the edges of the clearing.

 

“I have to apologise,” Barry said, finally breaking the silence. “I know I’ve been insufferable.”

 

“I’m sure that I, too,” said Leonard, reclining on the blanket, “have been insufferable in my own ways.”

 

“That is true,” said Barry, hiding his smile beneath his ducked head.

 

“I thought you were apologising…?” Leonard feigned offense but he, too, was smiling.

 

“I suppose it just seemed as though the entire world was against me for a while and you were spearheading the movement,” admitted Barry. Out in this clearing, cut off from the castle, the words came easily. “I had my entire life planned out: I would marry Iris, continue acting as my father’s adviser and then one day – hopefully far off in the future – take his place when he died. Then you burst into the great hall and turn that on its head.

 

“I know why you did what you did,” he was quick to add, “and I don’t blame you now, but it was difficult to accept back then. Those weeks waiting for Lisa to arrive, I thought you’d doomed me to a future devoid of love or happiness. Instead you gifted me a sister, gave my father a reason to live again, revitalised our lives. I should have thanked you long ago but it was hard to shake off those lingering resentments. I—”

 

“Barry, you don’t have to—”

 

“No,” Barry said, holding up a hand to halt Leonard’s interjection, “let me finish. I had these lofty ideas about having the perfect courtship, the perfect wedding, the perfect life. Something straight out of one of the romantic classics. Life, of course, never goes perfectly. I think now that it’s more important to be content with your imperfect life. And, if I’m being honest with myself, I am. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure that out.”

 

“I will never apologise for securing Lisa’s safety,” Leonard said, his words placed carefully like the foot of a man edging his way through a maze of traps. “At the time, I knew you all but had a fiancé and I knew that my request would hurt you, but I also knew you were too honour-bound and kind to refuse. I used that knowledge to my benefit and I didn’t care what happened to you as long as Lisa was safe. I will never apologise for that.

 

“But,” he conceded, “I am sorry that I had to involve you. If there had been any other way…”

 

It wasn’t quite the apology Barry had hoped for but it was what he’d expected. He supposed if his father had been in trouble, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to help him. Love of family, of friends, could drive you to do things you’d never considered before. He suddenly remembered Sara and Mick’s behaviour that morning, the knowing smile and the awkward request.

 

“What do Mick and Sara know?” he asked.

 

“I haven’t said anything to them. They just know me too well.”

 

Barry mulled that over and there was only one conclusion he could draw from it. “You’ve done this before.”

 

Leonard quickly shook his head. “Not like this.”

 

 _Not like this_. Barry didn’t know what that meant. It probably wasn’t his business anyway. He didn’t want to know what Leonard had done in the past, only what he intended to do from now on.

 

Barry moved the basket from between them with deliberate care. Leonard followed his motions almost lazily from beneath hooded eyes. Once the obstacle was gone from between them, Leonard stretched out on the blanket, reclining back on his elbows and letting the sunshine fall directly upon his face. His skin fairly glowed and Barry wondered at his beauty.

 

“So,” Barry asked tentatively, feeling foolish. “How does this work?”

 

“You tell me.” Leonard’s gaze smouldered, almost too intense to hold for long, much like the sun. “What do you want?”

 

Barry knew what he wanted. That was easy enough.

 

He moved forward to kiss Leonard but found himself being pushed back by a hand against his chest. Amusement twinkled in Leonard’s eyes as he chastised, “Use your words, Barry.”

 

“Kiss me.”

 

Leonard smiled, pleased. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

 

The first press of lips was tentative, barely a peck before it was over. The next one lingered and by the time Leonard’s lips and tongue were coaxing his mouth open, Barry was drunk on it. He pulled at Leonard until he was laying on top of him, loving the feeling of being weighed down again, so much like that first time. He felt himself hardening in his breeches, the arousal heavy and frenetic in his gut.

 

A cracking twig brought Barry back to himself and he pulled away and looked in the direction of the road. No one was passing and he quickly surmised one of the horses had trod on a branch but the thrill of panic made him ask, “What if someone catches us?”

 

“What if they do?” Leonard’s eyes were glazed and focussed on Barry’s lips. “What could happen?”

 

“I don’t know,” Barry admitted. “It just seems…” He trailed off.

 

“Seems what?” Prompted Leonard.

 

“Risky.”

 

“Do you mind?”

 

Barry thought about it. Did the fear of being caught outweigh his desire to continue anyway?

 

“No,” he answered. “I suppose not.”

 

Leonard cupped his face and drew him back up into the kiss, and Barry let himself be lead. He was glad he was laying down; Leonard’s attentions made him feel dizzy, as if he was falling. He thrust up against Leonard’s leg but there was an edge of discomfort mixed with the pleasure due to being confined in his breeches. He wanted to be free, he wanted the warmth of Leonard’s hand, he wanted release.

 

“Take me in your hand,” Barry begged, “please, for God’s sake.”

 

Leonard continued to grind down against him, sucking wetly against his neck. “I thought you were worried about being seen.”

 

“I don’t care,” Barry groaned. “I don’t care.”

 

 

***

 

 

They arrived back at the castle as the sun was going down in the west, painting the horizon in swathes of pink and purple. They unsaddled the horses in silence and when they went to part, Leonard took Barry by the wrist and pulled him back into a kiss before letting him go.

 

At dinner Barry sat in his usual seat beside his father and Leonard sat in his usual seat with his friends and the meal passed like any other except that Barry’s heart felt full of joy and anticipation.

 

Afterwards, Barry made his way to the library to finish the work he’d abandoned to go riding with Leonard. He was just getting settled when he heard the door open.

 

“Barry, husband darling,” Barry heard before Lisa was snaking her hands around his neck and resting her head against his.

 

“Yes, wife of mine?”

 

She scratched at his scalp, like one would a cat, and, despite himself, Barry found himself relaxing into the feeling. “Could I have a party?”

 

“What kind of party?” asked Barry, not because his reply was conditional upon her answer but because he was curious.

 

“Isn’t it your birthday next month?”

 

“Yes,” answered Barry, surprised. “How do you know that?”

 

Lisa ignored his question. “Then a birthday party. A masquerade.”

 

“You hardly need to ask my permission, Lisa,” Barry said, feeling a sort of sadness that Lisa wasn’t comfortable enough in her position in the castle to know that, “or hold it on my behalf.”

 

“I know,” she answered glibly, “but it’s more fun this way.”

 

“If you insist then.”

 

She pressed a kiss to Barry’s forehead. “Thank you, darling.”

 

Barry wondered what he’d got himself into as Lisa happily flounced away.

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

Barry was in the library late one night a few days later, going over some tax documents by the light of a solitary candle. His energy was flagging, his eyelids heavy as he continued to scratch notes that were becoming more and more illegible. When strong fingers tangled in his hair and began to rub against his scalp, Barry let his eyes slip close and he groaned.

 

“Please keep doing that forever,” he said, sinking down in his chair.

 

The glorious massage continued for several moments longer as Barry fought against encroaching sleep. He felt entirely boneless as he slumped in his chair. He would worship those hands as gods if he could, so revelatory was their touch. When the hands slid forward to cover his eyes, Barry knew it was over.

 

Warm puffs of breath tickled his ear as Leonard – for who else could it be? – nuzzled into the nape of Barry’s neck. That was nice, too, and Barry tilted his head so Leonard could keep doing whatever he intended to do.

 

But Leonard withdrew instead, leaving Barry cold and with only a squeeze of his shoulder as consolation.

 

“Go to bed, Barry.”

 

Barry whined like a kicked pup. If Leonard wouldn’t touch him then he was even more determined to return to his work. Sleep was the very last thing he wanted at that moment.

 

“No, I’ve just got a little more to do,” he argued, leaning around in his chair to get his first proper look at Leonard for the day. Despite the late hour, he looked put together and alert and Barry felt slovenly in comparison; he knew he was slumped in his chair in a very unbecoming way with his cravat loosened and vest unbuttoned. He hadn’t expected to have a witness to his work. “Another hour will see it finished.”

 

Leonard stood with one hip cocked, his arms crossed over his chest, and a disapproving look on his face. “You can barely keep your head up.”

 

“Just a little longer,” Barry wheedled. These documents really were very important, “please.”

 

Leonard considered him, the light of the sole candle reflecting like dancing sprites in his eyes. All at once, though, the fight went out of him and he shook his head, a bemused smile just making its way onto his lips before being beaten back again.

 

“Move back,” said Leonard, crowding into Barry’s space again, and Barry did as he was told, pushing the chair and himself away from the desk. He expected Leonard to take up the space he’d vacated and he was proved right. He then expected Leonard to read over the documents and notes himself and offer commentary – but it didn’t quite unfold that way.

 

Leonard sank gracefully to his knees in front of Barry and began unbuttoning the flap on his breeches. While Barry’s mind still reeled at this new development, Leonard took Barry’s manhood out and began to stroke him, his face so very close in a way that quickened the blood pumping through Barry’s veins.

 

“Do you know,” Barry said, voice hitching, “that people usually do this in the privacy of their bedrooms?”

 

Leonard’s face remained focussed on Barry’s erection but his eyes darted upwards to take in Barry’s expression, looking up at him from under his eyelashes. There was an intensity in his gaze that caused Barry’s stomach to flip. “I’m not most people.”

 

Leonard then nuzzled in close to Barry’s groin, eyes on Barry’s the whole time, and if Barry hadn’t been seated he was sure he would have shot halfway across the room in surprise. As it was, he jolted into the back of the chair. “What are you doing?”

 

Leonard took a firm grip on Barry’s hips and, with one sharp jerk, pulled him closer to the edge of the seat and his face. “I’m going to take you in my mouth.”

 

“What?” Barry gripped the armrests like a lifeline as Leonard pulled his breeches and drawers down as far as his thighs and then pushed his shirt and waistcoat out of the way. “Why?”

 

“If you think my hand is good,” Leonard said, emphasising the statement by stroking Barry to hardness with that very appendage, “you’ll really enjoy this.”

 

“Wha— oh my god!”

 

Leonard was right. Barry had enjoyed rutting together fully clothed and he had enjoyed Leonard’s hand upon him but this was something else completely. Leonard’s mouth enveloped the head of his cock and every nerve in Barry’s body seemed to be sing with pleasure. The suckling heat was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He wanted nothing more than to thrust up into it but Leonard had a vicelike hold on his hips – giving but never allowing Barry to take.

 

It was all Barry could do to shut his eyes and will away his climax as Leonard sunk down deeper and began bobbing, his lips a tight ring around Barry’s cock. Barry hazarded opening his eyes but Leonard was no longer looking at him; his eyes were closed, an almost rapturous look upon his face as he worked Barry’s erection with both mouth and hand.

 

Barry reached out, hand trembling slightly, and stroked through the close-cropped hair on Leonard’s head. It was simultaneously soft and a little spikey, a feel Barry was entranced by, and he continued to run his hands over it. Leonard chased the sensation, Barry’s cock slipping from his lips obscenely as he butted against Barry’s hand as it withdrew, his eyes opening lazily as he continued to stroke him by hand. He looked to be in a trance: his lips parted and eyes glazed. Barry scritched at his scalp, echoing Leonard’s ministrations earlier.

 

Leonard rested his head upon Barry’s thigh, his eyes locked on Barry’s as his hand continued its sweet torture. Barry felt exposed under his gaze and longed to look away, but at the same time it was as though he were a tightrope walker balancing precariously on the line between their eyes; any sudden movement or upset to the rope would send him tumbling, he knew not where.

 

It was in this overwrought state that his climax crept upon him.

 

“Leonard…” he managed to articulate through the waves of overwhelming sensation, “I’m about to…”

 

Barry thought his warning would prompt Leonard to draw back his face and finish him by hand as he’d done their previous time. Instead Leonard took Barry into his mouth again – and even deeper than before. His head bobbed between Barry’s thighs relentlessly and Barry’s fell back against the headrest of the chair as his climax washed over him.

 

Barry felt Leonard’s mouth work around his jerking hardness, swallowing his seed as it pumped out upon his tongue and down his throat. He seemed to know when the sensation became overwhelming for he let Barry slip from him lips.

 

As Barry remained slumped in his chair, stricken dumb by his climax, Leonard hastily stood, unbuttoning and pulling down his breeches and then leant back against the desk and took himself in hand. It was the first time Barry had seen him exposed and his eyes wandered over the organ that was so much like his own but somehow completely different.

 

He watched, feeling out of body, as the head of Leonard’s cock peeked out fully from the hollow of his fist on every downward stroke, a bead of opalescent liquid poised invitingly there for a moment until Leonard’s hand swept over the head and it was gone.

 

“Take me in hand.”

 

“What?” Barry asked, looking up at Leonard’s face, genuinely thrown.

 

“Touch me,” Leonard repeated, holding his erection in a firm grip as though offering it to Barry.

 

Barry’s fingers twitched. Part of him did want to, but he was struck still by uncertainty.

 

“Damn you,” Leonard grit out between clenched teeth and began stroking himself again, faster this time, as if he simply wanted it done with now. Barry watched on in detached fascination as Leonard thrust decisively into his own hand – once, twice, three times - his balls twitched and ropey spurts of seed made a mess of the front of Barry’s waistcoat.

 

Their breathing evened out in tandem, Barry slumped in his chair, Leonard leaning back against the desk, and no word was spoken for many minutes. Leonard’s eyes were heavy upon Barry, like the heat of a fire that he couldn’t retreat from. If Barry looked away, he would be consumed.

 

“I’m sorry,” Leonard said finally, tucking himself back into his breeches and drawing a handkerchief from his coat pocket. “I shouldn’t have asked that of you, and I shouldn’t have spent upon you.”

 

He knelt before Barry for the second time that night and began to wipe at the mess he’d made of Barry’s waistcoat, eventually giving up with a scowl. Barry wanted to tell him that he didn’t care, that he didn’t have to worry about it, but he seemed trapped in his muteness. So Barry let Leonard clean him, and he lifted his hips obligingly as he redressed him.

 

Barry suddenly had the overwhelming desire to be touched and kissed – not as some precursor to something bigger but just for the enjoyment and connectedness of it – but Leonard was distant and his hands didn’t linger on Barry’s skin any longer than necessary as he put him back to rights.

 

When he was done, he stood and walked stiffly to the door. Barry’s thoughts went around and around like clockwork.

 

Leonard paused in the doorway, then turned to look back. His expression was carefully constructed neutrality.

 

“Go to bed, Barry,” he said, and then he was gone.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

“Get in here, husband!”

 

It was close to midnight and Barry had been making for his bedroom when a voice called out to him from one of the many rooms on the ground floor whose purpose changed with the needs of the castle’s household. As Barry entered it now, he saw that it had been arranged into a drawing room configuration, several chairs in a circle around a low table littered with a plethora of food and a rainbow of bottles, and that Leonard, Lisa, Sara, Mick and Shawna were partaking in an evening tipple.

 

“All the rogues are assembled,” Barry joked, taking the empty seat that Sara indicated airily towards. It seemed all at once that cups filled with various spirits were being offered to him from all directions but he politely refused them.

 

“Rogues…” Sara mused, her cup tilting precariously in her hand. “I like that.”

 

“As do I,” Lisa exclaimed. “To the rogues!”

 

Everyone barring Barry clinked their cups together in a rowdy chorus of “ _to the rogues”_.

 

Barry could guess from their enthusiasm that this little party had been going on for a while. A couple of the wine bottles on the table were drained and both Mick and Shawna looked like they were only a protracted blink away from sleep. Lisa and Sara, on the other hand, seemed energised by their intoxication, their eyes bright and their hands flying as they chattered like sparrows. And Leonard…

 

When Barry turned to take in Leonard’s appearance, their eyes met for a second and then Leonard’s went skidding away almost guiltily and focussed elsewhere. Barry realised with a little thrill that he’d most likely not taken his eyes off Barry since he entered the room.

 

Feeling warmed inside and all the braver for it, Barry cleared his throat and asked, “How did you three come to be travelling together?” directing his question to no one in particular.

 

To Barry’s amusement, both Mick and Sara’s heads whipped in Leonard’s direction, their faces entirely sober by the time they reached the disowned prince. Leonard paused, his head turned to the side, eyes focussed downwards, before he looked from Mick to Sara with an unreadable expression. Something passed between the trio while Lisa and Shawna carried on talking between themselves, unaware of the silent conversation going on beside them.

 

Then Leonard leant forward in his chair and that was the end of it. As if nothing had happened, he looked between his friends and asked, “Shall I start?”

 

Sara shrugged, picking up her cup and taking a large sip. “I’ll pick up where I come in.”

 

“Sounds good,” Mick echoed.

 

Barry expected Leonard to begin the story at once, but he instead stood up from his chair and stretched leisurely. He took his time refilling each of the rogue’s cups, somehow knowing exactly what each of them were drinking without hesitation though to Barry they all looked the same. Lastly, after filling his own cup, he poured some water and handed it to Barry.

 

“Thank you,” Barry said, their fingers touching.

 

Leonard looked away.

 

“Mick was my knight,” began Leonard, resuming his seat, “back when I was still in my father’s good graces. But we met when we were both very young. Your mother worked as a maid, didn’t she?”

 

“A cook in the kitchen,” Mick corrected, talking through a mouthful of apple. “She used ta let me stoke the stoves.”

 

“That’s right. She used to make the most delicious meat tarts.” (“I loved those tarts!” chimed in Lisa) “Well, my father is an only son and no royal in his right mind would have ever sent his children to be Lewis’s ward, so I had to find my own companions.”

 

“He was a brat back then,” Mick informed Barry, “same as he is now. All brains and no brawn. I had to get him outta a few tight situations.”

 

Leonard inclined his head towards Mick, a fond look upon his face. “My impetuousness served you well enough.” He turned his attention back to Barry as he continued the story. “I elevated Mick to squire – much to Lewis’ anger – and then to knight. When the situation at the castle became untenable, he was the only one who left with me.”

 

“What about your mother?” Barry asked, addressing Mick. “Doesn’t she miss you?”

 

“She died,” Mick answered, as blunt as anything.

 

Barry took a sip of his water as he tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound pithy in response to such a major revelation, but all he came up with was: “I’m sorry.”

 

“Wasn’t your fault,” Mick said, shrugging. “Wasn’t anyone’s fault but mine.”

 

“Mick…” Lisa slid from her chair to the floor at Mick’s feet, hugging his legs and resting her head upon his thigh. For his part, Mick seemed largely unaffected by the display, patting her on the head once and then going back to concentrating more on the contents of his cup.

 

“And then they met me,” declared Sara, slapping her hands down on her knees and drawing everyone’s attention.

 

“A dark day indeed,” said Leonard under his breath, hiding his smile behind his cup.

 

“Shut up.” Sara picked up a mince pie and lobbed it at Leonard’s head. He caught it easily, a smug smile upon his face. Sara pointed a finger at him warningly. “You’d be dead in a ditch somewhere if it wasn’t for me.”

 

“I can’t deny the truth in that statement,” Leonard said, taking a bite from the tart. He chewed lazily and Barry found himself mesmerised by the working of his throat, the bob of his Adam’s apple, knowing intimately how those same movements had left upon his cock.

 

Barry fetched an apple from the table, just something to have in his hands, a distraction or else his eyes would keep straying to Leonard and the tightness of his breeches would become more of a problem.

 

“What were you doing before you met up with these two?” he asked Sara.

 

“Honestly?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Sara’s smile curled wider. “Are you sure you want to know?”

 

“Yes,” he repeated, but now he wasn’t so certain.

 

Leonard scoffed. “My god, you’re becoming as pretentious as me. Just tell him. He won’t faint.”

 

Sara pulled a knife from her belt, balanced it upon the tip of her finger, then – quicker than Barry could follow it – flipped the knife, caught it and launched it at Barry’s apple. The knife and apple thunked into the wall behind him. Barry looked down in shock at his hand, still shaped around the fruit that it no longer held. It took him a while to comprehend what had just happened and then he looked to Sara; she sat, one leg crossed over the other, the very picture of nonchalance.

 

“I killed men for money.” She said it simply as though it were a self-contained explanation. To Barry’s mind, though, it opened up far more questions than it answered. Barry looked around at the others assembled. Leonard, Lisa and Mick showed no reaction and he supposed that was to be expected. He thought Shawna might have shared his shock but she seemed more entranced by Sara’s knife trick than her revelation, going to tug at the weapon lodged in the wall. Had she known already? Was Barry the last to find out? Who had Sara killed?

 

“We got to drinking one night at a tavern—”

 

Sara interrupted Leonard to declare, “I drank both of you under the table!”

 

“She did,” Mick confirmed.

 

“As I was saying,” Leonard looked pointedly at his companions to see if they were going to offer further commentary, then continued when they didn’t, “There was this woman there – blonde hair, blue eyes, gorgeous – in men’s trousers, only just comes up to my chin, but is one wrong word away from going fist to fist with both of us. I have no doubt you would have won if it had come to that.”

 

“We wouldn’t’ve stood a chance.” Mick extended his cup for Sara to clink hers against and Lisa, still at his feet, joined in, causing liquid to go spilling to the floor when she bumped them from below.

 

“We get along well enough, though,” continued Leonard, “so I ask her if she wants to join us. Just a bit of mercenary work, probably not as much profit as killing popes and kings, but the company’s good.”

 

“And I, being the fool that I am, agreed.”

 

“Why?” Barry asked.

 

Sara paused a moment to think, her head cocked to the side and the look of deep concentration inebriated people monopolise upon her face. “Assassin’s kind of a lonely job,” she eventually settled on for her explanation. “Always moving around by yourself. I thought it might be nice to have someone who’s got my back for once, and to fight for something good.”

 

_Fight for something good_. Barry somehow knew beyond a doubt that that referred to Lisa. She did seem to be the good in many of their lives. In his own, Mick’s, Sara’s, Leonard’s…

 

Thoughts of Leonard lead Barry to his next question.

 

“Don’t you have somewhere – someone – to go home to?”

 

“Little prince,” Sara began, and Barry knew as soon as the pet name was out of her mouth that her answer would not be anything he expected, “I have someones everywhere.”

 

The group broke into unruly laughter as Barry felt his face heat up. Conversation flowed from there but it wasn’t long before it became obvious it was time for bed for all of them. Shawna and Sara went first, leaning heavily against each other and hushing each other louder than they’d been talking to begin with. Barry waited. When Lisa eventually asked Mick to escort her to her room ten minutes later, he knew his patience would be rewarded.

 

Once they were gone it was just him and Leonard in the room. They remained seated as Lisa’s voice and Mick’s grunts in reply faded away, and even a few minutes after that. Barry’s body sung in anticipation of things to come. Leonard’s hand upon him, or perhaps even his mouth again. Desire weighed heavy in Barry’s gut and his cock twitched in expectation. He shifted in his seat, palming himself briefly to ease his discomfort.

 

Leonard moved without warning and Barry scrambled to his feet and followed after him as he left the room. For a few strides he wondered where they were going and what new place would be privy to their lusts. But then he noticed that Leonard’s pace was hurried, that he was drawing further away with every step, and he began to worry.

 

“Leonard,” he called out.

 

Leonard didn’t reply and he didn’t slow. Worry began to sting at Barry’s breast. He started to jog, saying again, “Leonard, wait!”

 

When he caught up to Leonard he grabbed him by the arm and spun him around. Leonard kept turning his head, avoiding looking at Barry, and Barry felt tears prickle at his eyes. He didn’t know what was going on. Why had Leonard suddenly begun acting this way?

 

He leant forward, trying to coax a kiss from Leonard but he pulled away.

 

“Leave me be, Barry,” Leonard said, looking at the floor. Barry’s only consolation was that he didn’t sound angry, merely resigned. “I just want to go to bed.”

 

Barry let his hand fall back to his side, feeling cold all over.

 

“Alright,” he said, then added, “Good night.”

 

Leonard walked away.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

 

Barry walked back to his room in a fugue. His body moved on its own, taking him through his usual nightly routine of washing his face and changing into his nightshirt. It was only once he was in bed, the blankets pulled up around his chest, that any kind of sense returned to him and he realised he would not be able to sleep.

 

His blood ran hot in his veins, and arousal was a solid weight in his gut, radiating and insistent like a cat’s purr. His body didn’t seem to have registered Leonard’s rejection, even though it had left his mind cold and spurned.

 

Fine, Barry thought, he didn’t need Leonard. Their arrangement might have been convenient but Barry could look after himself just as well. He slipped a hand beneath his night shirt and took hold of himself. He began closer to soft than hard but with each tug of his wrist, his cock grew stiff and engorged.

 

At first he simply tried to have it done quickly, eager for his completion. He kept his mind blank and his hand in constant motion. There was the usual building of sensation – oddly unsatisfying this time – but try as he might, he didn’t seem able to mount the precipice.

 

Barry let out a frustrated groan. He rolled over, onto his knees, head in his pillows. He spat into his hand and tried anew. This time he conjured images of girls he had seen, their breasts pushed high and inviting by their stays, a hint of leg revealed from under their dress as they stepped up. His hips rocked down into the heat of his hand and still it wasn’t enough. Even the memory of Iris pressed up softly against his back, guiding his hand in his calligraphy lessons, did nothing to further his efforts.

 

Barry beat at the mattress with his free fist, on the verge of tears. His erection flagged. Every touch was a pale imitation of ones he’d enjoyed far more, given to him by a hand not his own.

 

An image of Leonard just the other day flashed through his head, those dexterous fingers of his wrapped around his own cock, his stormy eyes focussed on Barry as he stroked himself to completion. Barry latched onto it, imagined Leonard’s heat up against him and his hand now on Barry’s cock. It was like rain in a drought.

 

With his eyes closed, Barry conjured up Leonard’s presence. His hands first: not quite as soft as Barry’s own; there was a roughness to them that spoke of the years he’d spent making his own way in the world. His touch was always sure, teasing at times but never withholding. With one hand across Barry’s chest and the other fisted around his cock, Leonard would keep Barry restrained and secure. His breath would be hot against Barry’s neck as he whispered into his ear soft reassurances.

 

Barry could summon the cadence of his voice with little effort, could almost feel the insistent warmth and hardness of him at his back. “Let go for me, Barry.”

 

Barry moaned into his pillow as he spent across the sheets. Panting, he dropped onto his back beside the wet patch.

 

Well, he was forced to admit to himself, this could be a problem.

 

 

***

 

 

Leonard wasn’t there when they broke their fast the next day but that wasn’t unusual.

 

It was only, at noon, when Leonard didn’t appear for lunch that Barry began to worry.

 

He followed Lisa from the hall and caught her attention with a gentle touch to her elbow. “Have you seen Leonard today?”

 

She turned only slightly from her conversation with Shawna and answered, “of course,” as though no other reply could have been possible.

 

Barry let his hand slip from her elbow, feeling upset to his stomach. So then Len was only avoiding him.

 

Lisa’s eyes narrowed, catching scent of something queer like a bloodhound on the hunt, and she turned around fully to face him. “I take it by your questioning that you haven’t.”

 

Barry couldn’t quite bring himself to confirm her suspicions. He felt guilty, though he knew not why, and his guilt was magnified under Lisa’s scrutiny.

 

Lisa scowled. “Why is he avoiding you again? What did you do?”

 

“I don’t know,” Barry wailed. He had hoped Lisa would have been able to give him some insight into Leonard’s moods but it looked like he would be as clueless after this conversation as he’d been going into it.

 

Lisa jabbed a finger into his chest. “Well, fix it.”

 

“I don’t know how. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

 

“Think hard on it.” Lisa bit her lip, obviously weighing the merits of helping Barry in her mind. “He’s going riding later. You might catch him in the stables.”

 

“Thank you, oh, thank you, Lisa.” Barry leant in and placed a kiss upon her proffered cheek, before sprinting out of the hall. “This is why you’re my favourite wife.”

 

“I better be your only wife,” she yelled after him.

 

 

***

 

 

Barry needed to think but he also needed advice.

 

That was how he found himself in the yard straight after lunch, watching as Sara deftly outmanoeuvred the other knights of the castle in no armour and with only a staff in her hands. She moved unlike any other fighter Barry had ever seen and if he were not a rational man, he might think there was something supernatural to her abilities.

 

“Good afternoon, prince charming,” she said as she approached him once she was done, wiping the sweat from her brow with her sleeve. Occasionally she would dress as the other ladies did but she seemed to favour the masculine wear he’d first seen her in. Today she was indistinguishable in dress from the other knights. All that indicated her sex was her long, flowing tresses and her unmistakably feminine facial features. “Would you like to have a go?”

 

Barry poured a cup of water for her and she smiled gratefully at him. “Would you go easy on me?”

 

“Not a chance,” she said with a quirk of her lips.

 

“Then I think I shall stay where I am. I quite like having the ground beneath my feet.”

 

She patted him on the arm and began to move away. “Smart man. How can I help you then?”

 

Barry followed behind her, waiting until they’d moved away from most other people before speaking.

 

“I need some advice.” Sara looked over her shoulder at him as she shelved her staff, eyebrow pointedly raised. “About Leonard.”

 

She turned around, lounging back against the wall of the weapon room, chin cocked. “Why ask me?”

 

Barry felt pinned by her stare, uncomfortably so. Again that feeling of unsourcable guilt assaulted him. He went to lean beside her and looked out across the courtyard instead of into her eyes. “Because Mick has already threatened me bodily harm and Lisa is as evasive as her brother.”

 

Sara laughed. “They are certainly made of the same mould. What do you want to know?”

 

“I’ve” –Barry hesitated for a second, choosing his words with care— “upset Leonard and I don’t know what I’ve done.” He chanced a quick look in Sara’s direction and she motioned for him to continue. “I thought perhaps that you, having been his constant companion for so long, might be able to offer an insight into the workings of his mind.”

 

“Len’s not that hard to read, Barry.” Sara sighed and turned so she was more directly facing him but not in a confrontational way. “In fact, because of his miserly upbringing, he’s pathetically easy to please. There just needs to be a little _balance_ in your interactions.”

 

“ _Balance_?” Barry repeated in a questioning tone.

 

“Say I give you an apple. Would you thank me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Would you perhaps give me an apple in return in the future?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“See: balance,” concluded Sara and in theory it made sense, but Barry didn’t quite see how it applied to his own situation. Sara must have seen the confusion on his face so she elucidated. “Like an eye for an eye, but everyone _benefits_. You understand? You scratch my back, I scratch yours or, you know, other _things_.”

 

The way she enunciated the last word with an uptick of her eyebrows made her implications as glaring as the midsummer sun. Barry flushed and was suddenly full of suspicions. Sara’s observations seemed overly knowing. Barry hadn’t thought Leonard would break his confidence but, then again, what did he really know about what Leonard would or wouldn’t do.

 

Of course, there was one other reason Sara might intuit the nature of his and Leonard’s spat.

 

“Have you and Leonard…” Barry cut himself off.

 

“Have we what?” asked Sara with a look on her face that told him that if he asked, she would give him every detail of the truth. One part of him wanted to know, wanted her to confirm what he suspected. Sara and Leonard had an easy familiarity that Barry had thought was born from the trials they’d undergone in their mercenary days, but what if the cause was something else?

 

Had they had a deeper connection? Did they still have one?

 

At the last second Barry baulked. “Never mind. Thank you for your help, Sara.”

 

“Anything for you, prince charming,” she said with a wink.

 

 

***

 

 

Barry closed the stable door behind him as quietly as he could but Cisco still heard and poked his head around to see who was there. Barry lifted a finger to his lips before Cisco could speak, silently begging him for silence.

 

Cisco was quick to catch on and swiftly came to Barry’s side. He leant in close and kept his voice at a whisper. “What’s going on?” he asked.

 

“Would you mind leaving?” asked Barry nervously. “For ten minutes or so?”

 

“I can do that,” Cisco said with an amused smile, tugging a stray lock of hair back behind his ear. “I should warn you: Leonard’s in here, though. Is something wrong?”

 

“Yes,” Barry admitted, “but I know how to make it right.”

 

Barry thanked his friend in hushed tones as he slipped through the stable door and closed it behind him. Barry leant up against it for a minute, breathing deeply and willing his tumultuous thoughts to still. There was very little hope of that, though, and so eventually Barry simply gathered his nerve and ventured further into the stables.

 

He found Leonard in his mount’s box, tack out and ready for use. He was currently brushing the horse’s coat in long strokes, the disturbed dust filling the air like incense smoke.

 

“Leonard.”

 

Leonard didn’t seem surprised by his presence. With one last stroke, he put the brush aside and turned around. “What are you doing here, Barry?”

 

Barry entered the box, wary of Leonard’s charger but inextricably needing to be closer to the fallen prince. “Please talk to me,” he begged. “If I do something wrong, I want to know about it.”

 

Leonard pushed past him to leave the stall, none too gently, and Barry’s back hit against the door. It didn’t hurt overly but his incoordination made Leonard’s distress and urgency abundantly obvious.

 

“I can’t do this again,” he said, walking away.

 

Barry chased after him. “Do what?”

 

“It doesn’t matter.”

 

Barry managed to get in front of Leonard but still he was avoiding Barry’s eyes, his head ducked low. “Leonard, talk to me,” Barry pleaded, taking hold of his hand. It rested limply in his grip like a dead hare.

 

“Please don’t do this to me, Barry,” Leonard implored in a voice barely above a whisper. His feet were squared as though for a fight. “I know you have old-fashioned ideas about women and their virtue but I won’t be some convenient vessel for you to slake your lust upon. I may not have much pride, but I have that much.”

 

Sara had been right after all then - but the ramifications of Barry’s sexual timidity were greater than he had expected. To think Leonard imagined Barry wasn’t as attracted to him as he was to Barry, that he was merely a substitute for Barry’s own hand… the idea was laughable. Barry’s every waking thought seemed somehow to be related to Leonard these days, however tangentially. He ached for the taste of him in his mouth, the feel of him in his hands.

 

“But it’s not like that, Leonard.” Leonard needed to understand but the words came clumsily from Barry’s mouth, tawdry sentiments that paled in comparison to the true immensity of his feelings. “I want this. I want _you_ , I do.”

 

“You wouldn’t even touch me,” Leonard accused, a flash of anger in his eyes.

 

“Because I’ve never done this before.” Barry took both of Leonard’s hands in his, Leonard offering no resistance but also giving no assistance. He chafed them between his own, coaxing warmth into Leonard’s fingers, and placed kisses upon his knuckles. “I don’t know what I’m doing. Please be patient with me.”

 

“Words are easy, Barry,” Leonard said, taking back his hands and turning away.

 

That was true. Words were easy – easier than acting, that was for certain. So Barry forewent words and dropped to his knees in front of Leonard.

 

“What are you doing, Barry?” Leonard asked, and it was hardly the excited tone Barry had been hoping for.

 

“I’m sorry, I was being selfish.”

 

“Get up, Barry.”

 

“No,” Barry said with some finality. Pleasuring Leonard as he had been pleasured in all their previous encounters seemed like the most important thing to do in the world, an inarguable proof of his resolve. “I want to do this for you.”

But when Leonard’s manhood was finally freed and bobbing half-hard in front of his face, Barry’s confidence wavered. In theory he knew what to do: exactly as Leonard had done for him previously. He reached out tentatively and took Leonard’s length in his hand. Silky soft skin moved easily over the hardness underneath and Barry realised the obvious: it was no different from his own.

 

With a burst of confidence Barry began to stroke Leonard’s cock. The unfamiliar angle was strange at first but easy to adjust to. Leonard made a sound, somewhere between a hiss and a groan and when Barry looked up, his head was tilted back and his eyes were closed. Barry gave a slow stroke and watched as Leonard’s brow furrowed and he worried at his lip.

 

Barry looked back at the cock in front of him. An opalescent pearl of liquid was gathering at the slit there and Barry didn’t deny his urge to taste this time. He swept the drop up with his thumb and sucked it eagerly into his mouth, a hint of sweet-saltiness rippling across his tongue. It was far from unpleasant and Barry eyed Leonard’s cockhead with interest next. He could do it, he could.

 

He leant in… and was stopped by Leonard’s hand on his shoulder.

 

“You don’t have to…”

 

Barry gave a couple of strokes to Leonard’s cock and watched as his eyelids fluttered and his mouth opened on a jagged inhale of breath. He enjoyed this and Barry knew from personal experience that he would enjoy the other even more. Barry wanted that for him: to be pleasured and feel wanted. He knew he didn’t have to and yet…

 

“I want to.”

 

Leonard must have seen the resolve in his eyes. His hand dropped away without further protest and Barry leant in and suckled on his cockhead. He received a more pure taste of Leonard then and his eyes fell shut. He swiped his tongue over the soft flesh in his mouth seeking more. This wasn’t so hard and the sounds Leonard was making indicated he wasn’t doing a terrible job of it either.

 

Emboldened with confidence, Barry moved his hands to Leonard’s thighs and took Leonard’s cock deeper into his mouth… and quickly pulled back, gagging.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes stinging with tears as he looked up beseechingly at Leonard. “I’m sorry…”

 

“Hush.” Leonard guided Barry’s right hand from its hold on his thigh to wrap around the base of his cock and coaxed him into a leisurely stroking rhythm there. “Don’t take more than the head at first. Work yourself slowly up to more.”

 

“But you—”

 

“I’ve…” Leonard looked aside, avoiding Barry’s eyes, “had practice.”

 

There would be time to think about that statement later.

 

Barry lowered his mouth more tentatively the second time, taking only the head at first and lingering there. He kept up a constant movement of his hand until he had mustered his courage and began a shallow bobbing motion with his head, keeping his lips fixed snuggly around Leonard’s girth. He enjoyed the slide of the skin under his lips and the firm hardness underneath that, the regularity of his motions soon soothing him into a trancelike state. The dirt under his knees, the musty smell of hay, the stable and the horses: it all fell away and all there was was Leonard and his pleasure. Barry’s own hardness throbbed insistently between his legs but that, too, was inconsequential.

 

It was a shock when Leonard tugged Barry’s mouth away from his cock and Barry was lost for a second, pulled out of his focussed concentration. For a second he believed Leonard was about to withdraw again, leaving him there with his goal unfulfilled, but Leonard was looking down at him with glassy eyes, tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

 

“Come up here,” he ordered, a raspy quality to his voice.

 

“But—”

 

“Kiss me.”

 

Having been sure he was about to be spurned again, those two words crashed reassurance over Barry like heaving waves against a ship’s bow. He scrambled up from the floor and into Leonard’s embrace. He had missed this, oh, how he had missed it. Their mouths moving together, a play of lips and tongues and teeth. Leonard moaned into Barry’s mouth as his hand moved clumsily between them, trapped awkwardly between their bodies.

 

“I’m close,” Leonard broke away to warn.

 

Afterwards, Barry stood there with a palm full of Leonard’s seed, really not quite sure what to do next – that is, until Leonard handed him a handkerchief and instructed him to clean himself off.

 

“Thank you,” Barry said, suddenly bashful and unable to meet Leonard’s eyes. He took the ‘kerchief and wiped his hand perfunctorily.

 

Leonard huffed out a laugh and then, with a cocked finger under Barry’s chin, he lifted Barry’s face to meet his own. He pressed kiss after kiss against Barry’s lips while his free hand snuck lower to Barry’s trousers. “Let me…”

 

“No.” Barry pulled away. It was true that he was achingly hard in his breeches, but he had resolved to remain unsatisfied to prove his point. “This isn’t about me.”

 

Leonard stepped forward, not letting Barry increase the distance between them. He resettled his hand decisively on the opening to Barry’s breeches. “Even so, I would like to. Besides,” he said, a teasing lilt to his words, “you can’t walk out into the courtyard like _this_.” He palmed Barry’s hardness, straining and obvious against the fabric of his trousers.

 

So Barry let Leonard bring him off, spending his seed upon the floor.

 

As Barry was leaving, Leonard called his name. He turned, one hand upon the door, and Leonard asked, “Will you come to my room tonight?”

 

Leonard was gentled by the mid-afternoon sun shining into the stable, a becoming flush still lighting up his face. Barry should have liked to go back to him, to kiss him until his lips went numb and hold him tight – but they both had duties to attend to so instead he answered, “alright,” and left.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there's actual plot coming soon.


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

The evening of that first time, when he and Barry had fallen to the floor of the stable and not risen again until their lust was slaked, Len slipped into Lisa’s room and quietly shut the door behind him.

 

She was seated in front of the window, making use of the fading light of the day, an embroidery hoop in her hands, passing the needle and thread back and forth through the fabric. Len found himself becoming hypnotised by the rhythmic motion, her deft fingers weaving a spell to empty his mind, until Lisa spoke and broke him from his reverie. “What’s the matter, brother dearest?”

 

Len shook his head to clear it and resolved himself to telling the truth. Nevertheless, he leant back against the door, hunched in defensively now that Lisa’s attention was on him. “I… frigged your husband.”

 

“Someone ought to,” Lisa replied nonchalantly, going back to her handiwork. “He’s gotten the short end of the stick in this deal.”

 

Len stepped hesitantly further into the room. “You’re not mad?”

 

She cocked an eyebrow at him but that was the extent of her reaction. “Why would I be? It’s not as if you’re taking him from me. I have Cisco,” she said with some satisfaction, puffing up like a pleased mother hen. “Besides, Barry has some mistaken ideas of self-sacrifice that you should disabuse him of.”

 

Len felt weightless, all his anxieties fled. Disbelievingly, he asked, “And I have your blessing?”

 

“I only want you to be happy, brother.” Lisa set aside her hoop, turning to face him properly. “If this makes you happy, then you have my blessing.”

 

“Thank you, sister.”

 

“Please, though,” she paused, her lips pursed, considering her words carefully before continuing, “be careful.”

 

Len scoffed. “I’m not going to hurt him.”

 

Lisa levelled a pitying look at him. “It’s not _him_ I’m worried about, brother. Come here.” She patted her knee.

 

Len went and knelt by her side, resting his head against her thigh so she could run her fingers across the scruff of his hair.

 

“You love too deeply – and please don’t think I say that as a criticism – but it’s the truth. You open your heart up, give yourself body and soul, but the world isn’t kind and you keep getting hurt. Barry seems like a good person but it’s my duty as your sister to worry.”

 

“It couldn’t possibly end as badly as last time.”

 

Lisa sighed. “I hope not, for all our sakes.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

As night fell and light after light was extinguished in the castle, Barry finally mounted the courage to venture from his room and head in the direction of the wing where Leonard was staying. Something about this tryst unnerved him. Verily some of their past encounters had been premeditated – either by Leonard or himself – but this was the first time they had mutually agreed to, and set a time and place for, a meeting. That meant something that Barry couldn’t quite parse.

 

It made him tense, though. His footsteps sounded preternaturally loud and every flickering shadow caused his heart to beat double time in his chest. Rationally, he knew that he was allowing his mind to get away from him. No one could fault him for walking the halls of his own castle – even if the hour was late. If someone came upon him here, they would think nothing of it and suspect nothing, only that Morpheus had not found the young prince yet.

 

He repeated this logic to himself over and over, and yet it did little good.

 

He turned a corner and came quite suddenly upon Lisa. He hadn’t heard her footsteps, too wrapped up in his own thoughts, and the very sight of her seemed like an omen. The one person his secret impacted and who he had avoided confessing it to and here she was. Lisa cast an appraising eye over him and her face lit up in a happy grin.

 

“Good evening, husband,” she greeted him, coming close to take his hands in hers and place a welcoming kiss upon his cheek. “Isn’t it a little late to be wandering the halls? Couldn’t you sleep?”

 

“No… I was… that is… well…” Barry stumbled over his words before aping her own, “as you said, I couldn’t sleep.” Lisa had a shrewd mind; he changed the topic quickly to divert her curiosity. “How goes the party preparation?”

 

“Quite well,” she answered, and he could detect no suspicion in her tone or behaviour. “It’s all going as planned. I think you’ll be pleased.”

 

“Have you a costume yet?”

 

She gave him a playful whack on his arm. “Of course. And you’d better have one, too, if you know what’s good for you.”

 

“I have arranged for it to be made. What is yours?”

 

She batted her eyes coyly, turning away and replying to him over her shoulder. “You’ll find out eventually.”

 

“You’re being very secretive, wife.”

 

Lisa whirled around, her skirts flaring around her. A few steps and she was right back in front of him. “So are you, husband.” She met his gaze and kept it until he had to look away. “Worry not, Barry,” she said, placing a hand upon his arm, “you’ll have a fabulous night. Only make sure you have your costume in time.”

 

Barry bid her goodnight and stood still until she disappeared around a corner. He did feel a pang of guilt that he was keeping this secret from her but allayed it by promising himself anew that he’d tell her soon. Her appearance tonight must surely be a sign that it was the right thing to do. But such things had to be raised delicately, he reasoned. He couldn’t simply blurt such a scandalous topic out in the middle of a corridor after dark.

 

He continued on to his destination. He’d had to ask one of the servants where Leonard was roomed as he’d never had any reason to call upon him until now. He had been surprised to learn that he hadn’t moved from the room he’d first been lodged in when he arrived at the castle. Lisa, Sara and Mick had all chosen more permanent rooms but Leonard had remained in the hive of guest suites, the only occupant there currently.

 

Thinking about it now, Barry reasoned that Lisa had been returning from visiting her brother. What other reason could have brought her this far out of the way from anything else? The distance of Leonard’s room from the rest of the household did little to assuage Barry’s nervousness, though.

His fist hovered over the door for several moments before he finally worked up the nerve to knock.

 

“Come in,” came Leonard’s voice.

 

The door creaked as Barry opened it and he felt as though the whole castle must have heard.

 

Leonard was sitting – or rather, slouched – at a desk, the quill in his hand moving over a piece of parchment in elegant loops. He was dressed in only a nightshirt, though, and for some reason this seemed impossibly indecent to Barry. The pale expanse of Leonard’s exposed legs, lightly haired, drew his gaze before he realised the impropriety of his staring and looked away.

 

“I’ll be finished in just a moment,” said Leonard, sparing only a fleeting glance in his direction.

 

“Take your time.”

 

The room was sparsely furnished, more a guest room than any permanent residence, and with Leonard occupying the only chair, there was nowhere for Barry to sit except the bed. He lowered himself on top of the blankets gingerly, afraid that any wrong move could have Leonard throwing him from the room in an instant.

 

Barry was strung as tightly as a violin but as Leonard continued to write ceaselessly, the fatigue of the day and his heightened nerves began to wear on him. His back ached and his eyelids felt heavy. Eventually, when it became obvious Leonard would not be finished any time soon, he gave in and lay backwards on the bed, throwing a hand over his eyes; not with a view to sleep, merely to rest. The scratch-scratch of Leonard’s nib moving across the parchment and the soft tap of it against the inkwell at intervals kept the time as accurately as clockwork.

 

The cessation of such was deafening. The creak of a chair alerted Barry to Leonard’s movement. That was replaced by the soft tread of bare feet upon flagstone and Barry supposed Leonard had finally finished whatever document he’d been composing. The quiet and the darkness had done well to settle his nerves and he now felt surprisingly calm.

 

When the footsteps stopped, Barry moved his arm to his side, the candlelight blinding for a second after his time in darkness, and found Leonard standing between his legs, looking down at him. If he extended his legs even a little, they would touch. It wouldn’t be hard to hook one around Leonard’s legs, draw him in, maybe even surprise him and knock him down on top of Barry. He liked having Leonard over him.

 

But he did none of that. He sat up lazily and Leonard moved backwards a step to make room for him and they didn’t touch at all.

 

Silence stretched between them for many moments and Leonard’s eyes on him made Barry feel jittery and unsettled in his own skin, so different from his tenseness before. His fingers twitched and his eyes skittered away at the same time as he reached for Leonard’s hand but at the last minute he balked and took his wrist instead.

 

“A bed and a private room: this is a novelty,” he teased, hoping to break the mood. “Have you recovered from your exhibitionist streak?”

 

Leonard drew Barry’s face back up to meet his own, his eyes flickering down to Barry’s lips and eventually settling there. “I have no such thing.”

 

“Of course you don’t.”

 

Barry was the first to move, bridging the gap between them in a meeting of lips. They traded kisses unhurriedly, the threat of discovery absent for once. Without that danger hovering over them, Barry had the time to wonder at the headiness of Leonard’s lips, more intoxicating than any liquor and sweeter by far than honey. After barely any time at all he felt drunk on them, emboldened with courage he wouldn’t otherwise possess.

 

Barry’s hands traced the outline of Leonard’s body, up his legs, hips and waist, dragging the nightshirt up as he went. When he placed his lips against the exposed skin, he tasted nothing but cleanliness with a hint of salt. Leonard had washed before bed and Barry was uncomfortably aware that he himself had not, coming as he had in the same clothes he had bid good night to his father in, ones he had worn all day, so as to not arouse suspicion in anyone he came across in the halls.

 

He wondered if Leonard would be offended. Certainly it was too late to do anything about it now. He couldn’t stop his roving hands or the hunger that drove his mouth over every inch of skin he could find or the heat pooling in his gut and making him feel as if he were on fire.

 

He needn’t have worried, Leonard’s lips licked and sucked at the exposed skin of his neck with an equally fearsome hunger and Barry hoped that the groan Leonard let out deep in his throat was from his taste.

 

Leonard pushed him back down on the bed, dispensing of his nightshirt before straddling Barry. With the gift of time and solitude, Barry allowed his eyes to linger over Leonard’s body. His cock, proudly flushed, showed interest in the proceedings but was not fully hard yet. Barry remembered the heaviness of it against his tongue, the velvety slide of the skin over it, the hint of saltiness as he lapped at the head. Unlike Leonard, he was as hard as he could get and quite uncomfortable in the constriction of his breeches.

 

He reached down to unbutton them and Leonard understood his intentions, helping him in divesting himself of his other clothing as well. Soon they were as naked as the day they were born, Leonard back in his lap and grinding against him as they traded frantic kisses.

 

Barry couldn’t get the memories of earlier that day out of his head though. The idea of it had haunted his thoughts, kept a dull buzz of arousal thrumming through him all day. He ran fingers over Leonard’s stomach, playing in the trail of hair that led down to his sex, and his mouth ached to be on him again. He looked up at Leonard through his eyelashes and asked, “Shall I suck you again?”

 

“No, I don’t think so.” It took an effort for Barry not to show his disappointment at Leonard’s quick and decisive refusal. Had he done it wrong? It seemed unfair to judge him by that performance, being his first time. He could improve. He would improve and he would show Leonard he could do better. Leonard had mentioned being practised, though, hadn’t he? Who else had he done this with? Where were they now? How much better at it had they been than Barry? Did Leonard wish he was with them instead?

 

“Stop thinking. I can practically hear the gears turning in your head.” Leonard leant down and licked into his mouth, sucking on his tongue. “Do you trust me?”

 

“Yes, I suppose.”

 

Leonard snorted. “Don’t sound so sure about it.”

 

Barry sought out Leonard’s hand, entwining their fingers. “I’m sorry. I do. Honestly.”

 

“Get on your hands and knees.”

 

Barry frowned but when Leonard moved off of him, he did as instructed. The pose was embarrassing and left him feeling exposed – but he didn’t feel unsafe. He did trust Leonard in this. He had never intentionally hurt him during any of their sexual encounters; in fact, he had always taken care of Barry even when Barry had not always been as considerate to him.

 

He flinched slightly when Leonard’s hand settled on his back. Not in fright but simply because he hadn’t anticipated it – he hadn’t known what to expect at all. Nevertheless, Leonard’s hand withdrew immediately and an apology followed soon after.

 

“I’m fine, Leonard,” Barry said, twisting around to see him. “You just surprised me.”

 

Leonard looked to the side for a second, his lips tight, before he met Barry’s eyes again.

 

“You could call me Len,” he said and Barry could tell this was a more important request than he was letting on. “If you wanted to.”

 

“Len.” Barry tried it out and liked the feel of the name in his mouth, so much warmer and more rounded than Len’s full name. The twitch of a smile on Len’s lips as he said it decided that henceforth it would be all that Barry called him. “Keep going, Len.”

 

Len’s hand resettled on Barry’s waist and was soon joined by his other. They ran up and down his back, teasingly light, and made him shiver in anticipation. Soon Len was leaning over his back and laving the nape of his neck with wet kisses and his cock was hot and heavy nestled between Barry’s buttocks. This was what Barry loved most: Len’s body covering his own, making him feel trapped but secure and safe at the same time.

 

Barry tilted his head, gave Len room to mouth and suck, and Len whispered wetly into his ear, “God, you’re beautiful.”

 

Barry grinned into his shoulder, filled with more pleasure than any body should be able to contain. He ground back against Len’s cock and the hissed expletives that his movements caused thrilled him.

 

Len drew back and knelt behind Barry, one hand lingering at his waist. When Barry turned to see what he was doing, he was met with the sight of Len stroking his cock, his eyes fixated on Barry’s behind. As Barry watched, he spat into his hand, spread it over his hardness and then shuffled closer to Barry.

 

His eyes flicked to Barry’s face as he instructed, “Close your thighs.”

 

Barry complied but was about to ask why when Len’s hardness slipped between his legs, nudging against his balls, and sent a shock of heat straight to his cock. The intensity of his reaction shocked him and scared him a little. That something like this – something he had never even considered before – should send his blood thumping hotly through his veins, make his cock ache from its hardness, make him want for more…

 

Barry lowered his torso, resting his head on his folded arms, and looked back at Len. He looked to be in a trance, his mouth hanging open slightly, as he stared down at where their bodies met. He stroked the intersection between them with his thumb and Barry hid his moan into the join of his elbow.

 

Len withdrew unhurriedly. Barry relished the slow drag of flesh against flesh, barely aided in its slide by the spit Len had slicked himself with. Len took himself in hand again and rubbed the head of his cock along the cleft of Barry’s arse, pushing the flesh aside with the thumb of his other hand to expose Barry’s hole, briefly lingering there before slipping back between his thighs with a satisfied grunt.

 

He started up a rhythm of thrusts, not too quickly at first, and Barry was glad for that. He felt thoroughly overwhelmed by his current position, though not in a bad way. It just wasn’t something he’d ever pictured for himself and it was staggering how much it was affecting him. He’d never been so full of sensation as he was right now, every itch of pleasure so intense it had tears welling at the corners of his eyes, every tickle of discomfort somehow building on that bliss like a delightful hint of saltiness in a sweet dish.

 

Barry’s fingers bunched in the sheets beneath him as Len began to rut in earnest against him. His balls felt tight, his cock weeping a clear fluid. He needed more, something, anything. He reached for himself and timed his strokes to Len’s thrusts and it was perfect.

 

Len’s breath was hot and wet against his back as his strokes began to lose their precision and timing. Barry sped up his hand and willed his climax forward. It hit him hard and for a second his vision whited out as every muscle in him clenched, his toes curling, his fingers gripping the sheets like they were all that was keeping him grounded.

 

Len pulled out and plastered himself against Barry’s back, groaning against his shoulder as Barry felt spurts of wetness shoot across his back. They stayed like that for several moments, panting together. Len mouthed at Barry’s shoulder and neck, as though he still hadn’t had his fill. Eventually they separated, Len falling on his back beside Barry. Barry sunk into the mattress and allowed himself a moment to bask in his climax. Only a moment though, and then he wiped the seed from his skin with a sheet and was about to slide from the bed in search of his clothes when Len’s hand reached out a grabbed him around the wrist.

 

His eyes were already half-lidded with sleep which he seemed to be fighting off just for this moment. “You could stay the night?” he said but it sounded much more like a question than an offer.

 

That meant something too but at this point in the night Barry didn’t have the energy to analyse it too closely.

 

“Alright,” he said as he resumed his place beside Len.

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's probably full of typos but it's 1am so that's tomorrow's problem.
> 
> Enjoy.

 

 

Barry rushed through the castle’s corridors, heading for the great hall, his footsteps echoing hollowly against the flagstones. He was running late to his own birthday party. How very typical of him!

 

Empty rooms usually kept blanketed had started being aired out at the beginning of the week in preparation for the influx of guests expected for the party. The castle had filled gradually with friends, other royals, ambassadors and a variety of hangers-on. Barry had tried as much as possible to avoid the diplomatic meetings and bargaining that happened naturally around any large gathering of powerful people, instead running off with his friends into the woods surrounding the castle.

 

Lisa had been particularly secretive leading up to the night of the celebrations and Barry might have had time to worry about that if he hadn’t been occupied keeping his own affairs equally secretive. That had become easier though; inexplicably, Len no longer initiated anything outside of a locked bedroom. The change in his demeanour was striking. He had lost that harried aura he had carried through much of their previous liaisons, instead now content with lazy mornings in bed and lingering touches behind locked doors. Barry did not complain of the change. It was certainly better for his nerves.

 

He still had not mentioned his infidelity to Lisa, though. Some days he agonised over it, wracked with guilt; others he rationalised that, really, what was there to tell? He wouldn’t mention going to a brothel to a friend and weren’t his relations with Len simply fulfilling that same need? But he always felt a twinge of dishonesty when airing that argument. It felt somehow unfair to Len and unquantifiably untrue.

 

“His Royal Highness, Prince Bartholomew Henry Allen,” announced the manservant as the doors to the Great Hall were opened before Barry. A polite round of applause followed his appearance but that was all. This party might be being held in his honour, but most of the people here came for other reasons. That was fine. Barry hardly wanted to have to spend the rest of his night buttering up people he neither knew nor liked for political gain. Let them mingle and conspire; he would spend the majority of the night among friends.

 

Barry went to his father first and apologised for his tardiness. It seemed like the proper thing to do. Henry hugged him and wished him a happy birthday and then released him into the throngs of people milling about the hall. From the look of it, Barry was the last person to arrive. The orchestra was in full swing and guests alternated between talking towards the sides of the room and dancing in the middle.

 

Considering it was his party, Barry managed to navigate the room without drawing too much attention. He knew he would have to do the rounds and be polite at some point, but for now he just wanted to find someone he knew to talk to.

 

He wasn’t surprised when the first person he came across was Iris. It seemed like the fates weren’t above some dramatic irony on his birthday. Nevertheless, it was good to see her.

 

“Iris!” he said, approaching and drawing his winged mask up onto the top of his head.

 

“Barry.” Her smile was so open that Barry was struck by the difference from when he had last seen her. She took his hands in hers and kissed him on the cheek. Barry was surprised to find it evoked no more than warm feelings of friendship in him. She reached out and drew a man into their space. “I’d like you to meet Sir Thawne, my fiancé.”

 

The man had an open smile under his domino mask and Barry liked him immediately. His impression was only strengthened by the adoring look the couple shared. “I’m so happy for you,” he said and meant it. “Congratulations.”

 

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, your highness.” Sir Thawne made a curt bow, as befitted their respective ranks. “Iris speaks highly of you.”

 

“Please,” Barry entreated, “you mustn’t stand on ceremony with me.” He reached out and took Sir Thawne’s hand to shake. “Iris is my eldest friend and I esteem no one higher than her. If she has chosen you, then I am sure we shall in time be fast friends.”

 

After some more small chat, Thawne drifted off in the natural swell of the crowd and Barry found himself alone with Iris once more.

 

“Thank you,” she said, absently, watching her fiancé mingle. Barry was struck again by the contentedness of her expression in contrast to their last confrontation in the hallway. Had he and Iris ever looked at each other as fondly as she did at Thawne and he at her? He couldn’t imagine they had. It all seemed so far away now, though. He could barely remember the routines of his life before Len had entered it.

 

Barry was brought back from his musings by Iris’ hand upon his elbow. Voice full of sincerity, she asked, “Are you happy?” and he could tell from the expression on her face that his answer was important to her.

 

As such, he gave the question the moment of consideration it deserved. Was he happy? He could say with some certainty that he undoubtedly was not unhappy. But that in itself did not equal happiness. His country was a peace, his people suffered neither famine nor pestilence, and the court was rejuvenated in a way it hadn’t been since before his mother’s death. His father was acting more like himself, he had a wife he adored and he was surrounded by friends. Truly, he was blessed.

 

And then there was Len…

 

“Yes,” Barry finally answered, “I rather think that I am.”

 

“I’m glad,” Iris said, squeezing his arm.

 

She turned as though to disappear into the crowd but Barry could not let her go without saying the words he’d held inside of him for so long. “I’m sorry,” he said – perhaps a little too loudly for it was not only Iris who turned to look at him. He hastily bridged the distance between them and took her hands in his. “I’m sorry for everything that happened between us. I did love you, terribly. Please don’t ever think I was toying with your affections.”

 

Iris smiled at him, her head tilted to the side. “I would never think that, Barry. Though, I suppose it’s true what they say: everything works out for the best, doesn’t it?”

 

Barry chuckled. “Indeed, it does.”

 

Iris’ hands slipped from his again as she stepped backwards. “Please save a dance for me later.”

 

“Won’t your fiancé be jealous?” Barry teased.

 

“He’s a good man.”

 

“That’s good,” Barry said. “You deserve the best.”

 

One last smile and then she was gone, swallowed up in the crowd of costumed revellers.

 

Barry decided he needed another glass of champagne and went in search of it. Devils and angels and gods and all kinds of other mystical beings cavorted around him as strangers pretended to care that the prince of the Allen kingdom had reached the age of majority. It left a sour taste in Barry’s mouth and, champagne flute in hand, he renewed his search to find someone he knew to make this night more bearable. The only reason he had agreed to such an extravagant party was to please Lisa. He would have preferred to celebrate with an intimate gathering of friends and family rather than to endure this charade.

 

Disheartened when his search yielded no results, Barry took up position by the wall and began to drink in earnest, confident in his anonymity for the moment. Barely anyone had looked up as he was introduced and so should not be able to identify the winged messenger of the gods as the heir apparent.

 

As ungrateful as it was to Lisa’s generosity, Barry wished he had not bothered to come. He felt terribly alone at this party that was meant to be in his honour, and would have liked nothing better than to be in bed already, Len’s body warming his own as they sunk gently into sleep. He blinked away tears and through his blurred vision suddenly observed an androgynous figure approaching him.

 

The person was dressed as an owl or some other raptor-type bird of prey; an intricate mask with a wicked beak obscured almost the entire face, the eyes dark abysses with only a flash of sclera. A feathered cloak, decadent in its intricacy, draped luxuriously over a trailing tunic overlaid with chest armour completed the costume.

 

Barry felt himself stalked as the figure approached, weaving its way easily through the crowd but always moving in Barry’s direction. A small, primal part of him told him to run but he dismissed it. He knew that his feelings of estrangement were making him unreasonable and prone to paranoia. The figure meant him no harm. It was simply one of the few in this hall who wanted to wish him well for his birthday.

 

He waited on the spot for the figure to approach, fighting off that nagging feeling. When they were close enough to converse over the orchestra playing, he said good evening.

 

No reply came. Instead the figure continued approaching until they were standing closer than comfortable and a hand shot out from beneath the cloak, the gloves covering it ending in wicked talons, and grabbed his arm. Again he was overcome with an impulse to flee but he held still.

 

He looked into the dark wells of the mask’s eye holes and felt a spark of recognition even as a well-known honey-rich voice asked, “Are you having fun?”

 

“Lisa?” he asked in disbelief.

 

“Surprise,” she said, drawing the mask up to reveal her face and confirm that it was, in fact, her. Around her eyes had been smeared with kohl to create the deep blackness he had seen while she was wearing the mask.

 

“You and your brother will be the death of me,” Barry chastised, gripping his chest. His heartbeat still thrummed quickly beneath his hand. Once more he looked over her figure but couldn’t distinguish her normal silhouette. Her shoulders seemed broader, her chest flatter and he was sure she’d gained an extra inch of height. “But how? You look entirely different. You look like—”

 

“A man, right?” she finished, her pleasure at the deception evident. “The magic of heels and bindings. Come with me.”

 

She dragged Barry from the hall, grabbing a lantern on the way out to light the way. He was pulled along corridors, quite helpless to resist as the adrenaline fled from his system and he calmed down. When he realised that she was taking him towards the library, he shook off her hand and instead walked side by side with her. She deflected any questions he asked her with a coy smile.

 

When she arrived she threw open the doors dramatically and then stood aside to let Barry enter first. He shot one last quizzical look in her direction before making his way into the room, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the relative darkness of the library. As Lisa followed him into the room, the light from her candle beat against the shadows and Barry began to make out a figure in the chair by the window. It rose and moved forwards and suddenly he was looking at Lisa’s exact doppelganger.

 

“What is this?” Barry asked, suddenly cold with fear again. He looked between Lisa and the figure but it was like looking into a mirror; they were exactly the same. For a moment, his thoughts were entertained by stories he’d heard as a child of monsters and fairies and other such supernatural creatures he’d learned to discount as an adult. Now he was not so sure that the old stories weren’t true.

 

“Don’t be afraid.” A hand gripped his shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. “He doesn’t have a knife this time. It’s a trick,” came Lisa’s molasses-sweet voice somewhere close to his ear, “and only the three of us shall know.”

 

“Len?”

 

Len – for it was Len, his distinctive movements obvious now that the scales of fear had fallen from Barry’s eyes – approached and took Barry’s face in his hands, drawing close to place a kiss upon his cheek.

 

Lisa floated into Barry’s peripheral vision and knocked Len’s mask from his face, revealing the same kohl-bedaubed eyes his sister sported. “Well guessed, husband.”

 

Barry stuttered for a moment, taken aback by Len’s affectionate display in front of another, when the pieces of the puzzle slipped into place. He spun towards Lisa, pointing a finger in a direction. “You knew!”

 

“Lenny doesn’t keep secrets from me…” She let the sentence hang as she smiled coyly at him, lounging freely against a desk in a posture reminiscent of her brother. It was becoming obvious that, divested of her usual stays, petticoats and skirts and allowed to move freely, Lisa had many of the same mannerisms and behaviours as her brother. Her head dropped forward lazily and it was only her eyes that ticked upwards, looking at him from under her lashes, as she admonished, “unlike my husband.”

 

Barry was sobered by the addendum to her statement, a flash of guilt running through him and heating his cheeks. He looked away, unable to meet her eyes. For perhaps the first time the possible consequences of his unfaithfulness weighed as heavily as the world upon his shoulders. He had hurt her, the wife he had promised to care for always, and no words could take back the harm he had done. Still, this silence was untenable. Tears prickled his eyes as he finally gathered the words that expressed not even a fraction of his true remorse. “I’m sorry.”

 

Barry was not surprised by the slap he received to his forearm, nor the moue of discontent upon Lisa’s face when he finally looked up. The fond look upon her face as she shook her head, though, was unexpected and caught Barry off guard. “Do you think I’d have gone to all this trouble if I was angry?” She pulled him towards her into a hug and he was too surprised to fight back. “I’m happy for you. I’m happy for you both.”

 

“What is all this then?” asked Barry once he was released, gesturing to her and Len’s identical costumes but meaning the whole party.

 

A wicked grin spread across Lisa’s face and again Barry was reminded of how similar the siblings were. “A game,” she answered with relish. “If you get found out, we all lose. But I don’t think that will happen. I’ll stay with you another hour or so, show my face and make sure people know this is my costume. Then we shall switch. You and Lenny can dance the night away and I’ll retire to my room with no one being any the wiser. Aren’t I clever?”

 

“The cleverest,” Len was quick to answer and Lisa preened under the strong-armed compliment.

 

Lisa’s plan was intriguing. It was true that no one had taken much notice of Barry so far that night. It certainly seemed feasible that they could carry out this ruse and no one would be any the wiser. The prospect was exciting and the idea of doing so in front of all those people who cared not a whit about him was doubly satisfying.

 

“I’ll see you soon,” said Len, obviously seeing Barry’s decision upon his face, and pressed another chaste kiss against his cheek. Emboldened by the knowledge that Lisa knew and approved of their relationship, Barry turned his face and captured Len’s lips with his own. A warmth spread through him, knowing that he did not have to hide his affection for Len from one person at least.

 

An impatient huff brought Barry back to himself and he pulled away. Lisa shook her head at the both of them, her posture radiating impatience. “Save it for later. Come on, husband,” Lisa said, once again dragging him by the hand where she wanted him to go. “Let’s make out presence well known.”

 

Lisa didn’t bother resetting her mask as they re-entered the Great Hall. She wore it like a hat, her face on display to anyone who looked. They made a circuit of the room, arm in arm, and Barry introduced and was introduced to all kinds of dignitaries. Lisa was exceedingly skilled at small talk but also at keeping them moving. She was much better at this than Barry, that much was for sure. Each person they met was left feeling as though they had been acknowledged and heard even after only a few minutes of conversation.

 

Barry’s glass was kept constantly full and he drank of it liberally, feeling that he needed the courage for what would come later. It was exciting but also nerve-wracking. He would be able to hold Len, to touch him freely, to dance with him and kiss him, and no one here would ever know that it had happened. But if they were to be discovered…

 

When the clock struck eleven, Lisa pulled him close to whisper in his ear. “I think that should do it. Stay here. I’ll send him to you.”

 

Lisa began to move away and Barry grabbed for her hand. He was suddenly overcome by a paralysing panic, his legs turned to jelly as visions of everything that could go wrong flashed through his mind. It took several shuddering breathes to calm himself and Lisa looked on supportively as he clawed back a sense of rationality. When he felt capable of being alone again, he squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Lisa.”

 

A smile spread across her face slowly, like a flower opening up to the sun. “You’re welcome, Barry,” she said, reaching up and pulling her mask into place. Her cape flared out about her like an eagle taking to the wing as she spun around and dashed from the room.

 

The next few minutes seemed to drag and speed by simultaneously. Barry kept having to wipe his sweaty palms against his tunic. He felt as though every eye in the place was on him, even though, when he looked around, not a single person was paying him attention. Several times he considered simply leaving. He could go back to his room and no one would even notice or care.

 

No, that wasn’t right, he thought. There was one person who would care and the thought of him arriving and finding Barry fled pulled at his heart strings.

 

They might not have another chance like this.

 

So Barry stood his ground and waited.

 

When he caught sight of feathers and dark, hollow-looking eyes, any hesitation he had fled from him. He felt giddy and weightless while at the same time his heart ached.

 

“Is it you?” Barry asked, barely above a whisper, chest swelling with hope and happiness. How could so much emotion fit inside his frame? Surely it must be spilling out, visible to anyone who cared to look.

 

The figure kept approaching him, taking Barry’s face in his hands and drawing him forward into a kiss and if Barry had felt full of everything good before, it was nothing in comparison to the bubble of contentedness that now swelled and strained the limits of his mortal body. He kissed back desperately, never wanting this moment to end.

 

It did, though, but there was the promise of more stolen moments like this to sustain Barry.

 

Len – for who else could it be? – snatched a pair of champagne flutes from a passing waiter and handed one to Barry. He leant close as he entwined their arms, keeping his voice low so those around him wouldn’t hear.

 

“To your health,” he toasted.

 

“No.” He had been about to drink when Barry’s words stopped the glass halfway to his lips. Barry could just imagine his cocked eyebrow under his mask, unsure but curious. Barry smiled as he amended the toast: “To our future.”

 

The drinks kept coming as Barry and Len traversed the room, never staying in one spot too long and retreating should anyone look as if they wished to engage them in conversation. Soon Barry’s stomach ached from laughing and his smile felt permanently affixed to his face. He stole kisses at every opportunity, drunk equally on the taste of Len’s lips as on alcohol.

 

At one point Iris caught his eyes from across the room and Barry almost knocked a Mephistopheles over in his attempt to hide. He did want to introduce Iris to Lisa and, he realised with a little shock of surprise, to Len, too. He wanted her in his life as a friend and to take back some of the ease of familiarity they used to have.

 

But now was not the time for that and so he tugged a compliant Len from one side of the room to the other.

 

“Who was that?” Len asked, crowding into Barry’s space, talons straying downwards to play with the folds of Barry’s tunic. Barry could imagine them later, those wicked fingers making good on their promise, slipping beneath the cloth to take Barry’s length in hand. Weeks of indulgence had allowed them both to learn the idiosyncrasies of each other’s bodies and Len had often used that knowledge to devastating effect. A low hum of arousal lay like a leaden weight in his gut and so it took longer than usual for Barry to parse Len’s question.

 

“What do you mean?” he asked breathlessly.

 

This close, Barry could make out Len’s eyes. Despite the many glasses of champagne he had consumed, they were still bright with intelligent cunning – and edged curiosity. “The girl you ran away from. Who is she?”

 

Barry slipped from Len’s grasp, putting some space between them, and took a gulp from his drink, swallowing nervously. “Are you jealous?”

 

“Tell me.”

 

Len’s focus was intense and Barry had to admit to himself that he didn’t know the man well enough to know what that meant. Surely answering with the truth would tell Len nothing he hadn’t already known; Barry had certainly thrown his abandoned love in Len’s face often enough in the weeks before Lisa’s arrival at the castle. Identifying Iris as that love would simply be putting a face to a heretofore anonymous woman. It nevertheless made Barry nervous. Taking another swallow of liquid courage, Barry stated, “She was who I was going to marry before you arrived,” trying to keep any hint of regret or censure from his voice.

 

Len’s face remained studiously blank but Barry could see his mind working behind his mask. Barry imagined all kinds of reactions but the one he got was unexpected. “I’m sorry,” Len said.

 

Barry couldn’t help the scoff that escaped his lips. “You don’t mean that so don’t say it.”

 

Pleasure crept onto Len’s face like the cautious slink of a fox from its den. “You’re right,” he said, crowding into Barry’s space once more, taking the glass from his hand and placing it somewhere behind him. He took Barry’s face in his hands – his talons – leaving barely any space between them. “I don’t regret a thing.”

 

Barry surged forward to close the distance between them, knocking his nose awkwardly against the hooked beak of Len’s mask but quickly finding the angle from which to make the kiss work. It was more feral than any of the previous ones he had placed on Len’s lips and cheeks; Barry pressed forward and Len opened his lips obligingly, letting Barry lick into his mouth in a way he knew he shouldn’t with all these people around them.

 

It was Len’s hand pushing gently against his chest that brought some sense back to Barry and he allowed himself to be driven back only so far that their foreheads still touched and they shared the same breath.

 

“Save it for later,” Len said, his voice rough and full of promise, and then he was disappearing into the crowd and Barry had to hurry to keep him in sight.

 

When he managed to catch up to him again, he found that Len had accomplished what he had not been able to: he had found their friends. Barry should have known they’d be congregating around the source of the food and alcohol.

 

Only Lisa was missing from their usual group – for obvious reasons. Their costumes ranged from intricate works of art (Caitlin had made herself up in an effigy of winter with the most delicate beadwork Barry had ever seen) to a display of complete disinterest in the party’s dress requirements (Mick wore a plain, unadorned mask but was otherwise dressed as he would on any other day).

 

Sara was the first to spot them approaching and Barry had no doubt that she knew exactly what was going on. She always seemed to know things, whether she was told or not. It was quite an annoying quality. As for the others, Barry wasn’t quite sure. Mick squinted as they approached the group and then nodded as if satisfied. Caitlin, Cisco and Shawna were not as perceptive – not aware of Barry and Len’s approach at all, in fact – and as their meandering conversation became audible Barry could tell that they might have been further into their cups than even he was.

 

“Good evening, friends.”

 

“Barry! Happy birthday, your highness,” said Cisco, bowing low. So comedically low in fact that he began to wobble and might have fallen over if Sara had not grabbed him by the arm and wrenched him back up to standing.

 

“You look happy,” she remarked with a knowing grin. “Is your night going well?”

 

Barry shared a quick look with Len and couldn’t help the smile erupting over his face as he gazed upon the fearsome mask Len wore, knowing who was behind it. “I think it may be the best night of my life.”

 

“Let’s see if we can improve upon it further,” Sara said, producing two flutes of champagne from somewhere and thrusting them upon Barry and Len. Once everyone’s drinks were charged, they all toasted and downed them in a single swallow. Before Barry even realised it was happening, his glass was full again. It seemed a kind of magic to his alcohol addled brain.

 

“I missed you,” Barry heard Cisco say, thinking at first for some reason that he was addressing Barry. He was surprised to find, though, that when he looked up from regarding his enchanted glass, Cisco was facing Len. For a second he was confused. He hadn’t thought Len and Cisco even liked each other particularly. That confusion deepened when Cisco reached out to touch Len, throwing an arm around his waist to pull him closer, and then jumped back as if burnt. Wide-eyed, blinking maniacally, he pointed a finger in Len’s direction and exclaimed, “That’s not Lisa,” and that was what it took to remind Barry of their subterfuge.

 

Laughter bubbled out of Barry – overwhelming and crazed – even as he rushed to Cisco and tried to silence him. “Sh!” he hushed, a finger to his lips. “It’s a game.”

 

Len’s taloned hands slipped around Cisco’s waist while he was distracted by Barry, and he leant in close to his ear (and Barry was pummelled by a wave of jealousy he knew, rationally, was misguided) and stage whispered, “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

 

Cisco at least had his wits about him enough to keep his voice low as he hissed, “Why is Leonard wearing Lisa’s costume?”

 

“It’s a game,” Barry repeated, unsure why Cisco could not follow the logic. “A fun game.”

 

Cisco looked sceptical but his mouth said, “Sure.”

 

“That’s Len?” Shawna asked. “But I saw…” She trailed off, her eyes straying away as she bit her lip.

 

Caitlin strode up to Len, her usual demure nature gone for the moment. Barry had only a second to wonder what her objective was before she clapped Len’s cheeks between her hands and  manipulated his head back and forth, examining it from every angle. Len allowed her to do so, an indulgent smile on his face.

 

“You two really are alike,” Caitlin eventually proclaimed, somehow managing to keep a serious look on her face throughout the entire examination. Then she suddenly paled and in a voice much softer and less sure said, “I feel sick.”

 

A litany of _no, no, no_ came repeatedly from Cisco’s mouth as he grabbed her by the arm and with Shawna’s help escorted her away.

 

“How much has she had?” Barry asked no one in particular.

 

“She matched me drink for drink,” Mick said with a mixture of awe and respect in his voice.

 

Len snorted. “No wonder she’s in such a bad way then.” He knocked his shoulder against Sara’s amicably. Again Barry’s stomach clenched. “I suppose it could be worse; she might have tried to best you.”

 

Sara cocked her chin out and Barry didn’t think he imagined the teasing tone of her voice as she practically purred, “You’re the only one who can keep up with me, Snart.”

 

Barry downed the rest of his drink. It settled uneasily in his gut but he didn’t think that was the reason for the sudden queasiness that had overcome him.

 

“I just—” he said, the words petering out. He licked his lips. They were so dry while his palms felt almost to be dripping with sweat. After chewing incomplete syllables for several seconds, he finally managed to say, “I’ll be back.”

 

Len’s lips were downturned when Barry stole one last glance behind him.

 

Barry walked and he kept walking until he exited out into the central courtyard, the noise of the party dim behind closed doors. The cool evening air calmed him and made his cheeks burn. He felt silly, like a small child, and not like the 18-year old he newly was. What was this irrational irritation at other people touching or being close Len? He had no claim on the man, no reasons for these feelings.

 

And yet, feel them he did.

 

He took several deep breaths and let the cold air push the heat from his body. After a minute he felt more settled in himself and less subject to the whims of the alcohol pumping through his system. Jealousy still clawed at him but it was easy to ignore. Caitlin had merely been curious, Sara was nothing but an old friend. There was nothing in their actions to be resentful of.

 

But what if Len should take a wife? What would become of Barry them?

 

Barry’s vision blurred with irrational tears and he swiped at them angrily, pulling great, heaving lungfuls of breath into his body to quench this storm of emotion.

 

Why was he acting like this? He knew it was stupid and yet he could not reign in his mind from its reckless wanderings.

 

It was the charade, he decided. So close to something real but also further from the truth than the Earth from the moon. Having their relationship acknowledged by Lisa had been thrilling and affirming, but running around with Len on his arm disguised as his wife was nothing but a lie. For the first time, he realised that it was a lie he no longer wanted to live. Folly though it might be, he wanted to legitimise what was between them.

 

Not tonight though. Not in front of these parasites and sycophants. They weren’t worth it.

 

They weren’t worth this attack of anxiety, either.

 

He took one last, deep breath and squared his shoulders. Every step he took brought him closer to the light, warmth and cacophony of his party. If that had been all that awaited him, he might never have returned. But there was Len and his friends to think of; his lifeboat in a storm.

 

On entering the room, Barry immediately looked around for his group and found Len’s eyes already trained on him. He felt acutely those dark recesses in the owl mask attuned to him and, rather than being intimidating as they had been earlier in the night, he felt a thrill of a satisfaction that all of this wonderful man’s attention was focussed on him. His own field of vision tunnelled as he approached Len with no other thought than to get his hands back on him.

 

Len reached for him long before they were within touching distance and Barry took his hand eagerly, allowing himself to be pulled close to Len who nuzzled against his face. “Are you well?”

 

Barry clung to the feathers of Len’s cloak, breathing in the heady smell of his lover, grounded somehow by his very presence. He spoke the truth when he answered, “I’ve never been better.”

 

A smile tugged at Len’s lips and Barry could tell by the way he ducked his head that Len knew exactly the reason for his mood.

 

Belatedly, Barry realised that they were alone.

 

“Where did everyone else go?” he asked, looking around for their friends.

 

“Mick and Sara went to save the others from themselves. I said we’d join them after you returned.”

 

“You and Sara—” Barry snapped his mouth shut when he realised what he’d been about to ask, his inhibitions lowered by his inebriation.

 

“Yes?” Len prompted.

 

Barry shook his head and then regretted the action as the room swung dangerously. He steadied himself against Len’s reassuring (and unmoving) body. All the champagne was catching up to him. “It’s nothing.”

 

Len’s brows furrowed. “Perhaps we’d best sit down for a little bit.”

 

“I think that might be a good idea,” Barry admitted and allowed Len to link their arms together and lead him. Where Len was headed, Barry knew not. Nor did he particularly care, as long as they were together. He kept his eyes fixed on Len’s fearsome mask, trusting that his lover would keep him safe as he guided him through the throngs of people.

 

Little wonder he was surprised when his name was called and Len stopped them abruptly in their tracks.

 

“Barry,” his father repeated and Barry looked around to see they’d walked straight past him without noticing.

 

Barry disentangled himself from Len’s arm, feeling conspicuously ungraceful as he went to his father. He glanced back at Len once with a panicked look but Len was pointedly looking away – to hide the sharpness of his cheekbones or the thinness of his lips perhaps, the only overt tells of his real identity.

 

It was for the best but Barry still wished he could borrow a little courage from having Len by his side.

 

He tried to act sober as Henry’s eyes swept over him, standing up straighter and crossing his arms behind his back. The fond look in his father’s eyes told him he hadn’t been entirely successful.

 

“Are you having fun, son?” Henry asked with a hint of mirth in his voice.

 

“Yes,” answered Barry, reasoning that the less he said, the better.

 

Barry slumped a little as Henry looked away from him and out at the crowd of people filling the great hall. “Lisa did a good job putting this all together, didn’t she?”

 

“Yes, she did.”

 

Henry’s eyes flicked back towards him for a second and Barry straightened up again. “Is she enjoying herself?”

 

“Yes?” hedged Barry, the urge to fidget overwhelming.

 

Henry levelled a disappointed look at him. “Barry,” he said in the exact tone he’d always used when chastising Barry, “I know my daughter-in-law. That,” he said, pointing in Len’s direction, “is not her.”

 

“I—” Barry trailed off, his mouth left hanging open. His mind was suddenly and wretchedly blank of excuses and denials alike. He wanted to look in Len’s direction to see if he was reacting, to see whether he’d heard or not, but that seemed incriminating.

 

Who did Henry think Barry was with then? Did he think Barry would so publically flaunt a mistress in front of all these people? As soon as the thought was in his head, Barry realised that was exactly what he was doing – in a manner of speaking. His father did not know that it was all at Lisa’s instigation and with her blessing, and that knowledge made all the difference to how the ruse was viewed. His father’s disapproval suddenly loomed menacing like a massive wave about to crash down on him and there was nothing Barry could do to explain himself without implicating Lisa and Len both.

 

Henry took Barry by the shoulders and the gentleness and warmth of his touch was like a soothing balm to extinguish Barry’s nervousness. It spoke not of anger or judgement but of parental concern. “I don’t need to know _why_ Leonard is masquerading as his sister or who came up with this little plan.” Barry had only a second to wonder at how his father had picked Len out before Henry dropped his voice and an air of gravity overtook his amusement. “I just trust that you remember why Lisa is with us in the first place and the precarious arrangement we have with her father’s kingdom. In public everything has to appear a certain way, even if that is not how it actually is when we are behind closed doors and not under scrutiny. So I also trust that no one will find out about this ruse. Please, just be discreet. Do you understand?”

 

Barry knew his father was telling him something beyond to be careful but the words ran together, sticky and hard to pull apart like toffee. He prayed he would remember Henry’s words tomorrow when he would be able to parse them.

 

He understood what Henry was saying aloud though, and so he answered, “Yes.”

 

A look of relief came over Henry’s face. “Good,” he said. “Now give my regards to Leonard and enjoy the rest of your birthday.”

 

Barry got stuck somewhere between the beginnings of a simultaneous bow and handshake before giving up and retreating without decorum.

 

He looped his arm through Len’s as he passed, powering through the crowds like a rampaging bull, heedless of anyone in his way. Len guided him as he could, avoiding collisions until they were clear on the other side of the room from the king.

 

“He knows,” Barry hissed, pulling on Len’s arm.

 

“Knows what?” Len asked.

 

“He _knows_.”

 

“Well,” Len pronounced with more levity that the situation warranted by Barry’s estimation, “that’s something.”

 

“Yes.” Len’s reaction quite threw Barry. He’d been expecting more panic or at least shock. Len’s nonchalance entirely cut the wind from Barry’s sails. If Len wasn’t going to make a great deal of the revelation, then perhaps it wasn’t all that alarming after all. Barry decided to follow his example. He would not panic. His father’s knowledge changed nothing. He would just need to be more discreet with his affection. Resolved, Barry extended his hand to Len. “Let’s dance.”

 

Len was amused by the abrupt change in his demeanour, a fond smile peeking out from beneath his mask. He crossed his arms over his chest, though, and declared, “I can’t dance.”

 

Barry waved away his objection. “Of course you can. I know you can. You’re a prince. We can all dance.”

 

A huff of laughter escaped Len. “Fair point. Yes, I can dance – but I was only taught to lead.”

 

“Oh,” Barry exclaimed, surprised that was his real (and only) objection; it was such a little thing, “I’ll follow then. I know how.”

 

Len’s lips turned down. “Do you know how that’s going to look? They all think I’m Lisa.”

 

“I don’t care.” Barry had already decided he didn’t give any credence to what the strangers at his party thought of him. So what if they believed he allowed a woman to lead him? It said nothing to his character or moral integrity – and so what if it did? They weren’t worth worrying about. “Anyone who knows Lisa knows she’s the one is charge anyway.”

 

Len inclined his head in concession. “True.”

 

So they danced. Barry received a few odd stares but it was easy to ignore with Len warm in his arms. Len moved stiffly and hesitatingly at first, quite obviously out of practice and Barry wondered how long it had been since he’d had the opportunity to dance. Perhaps not since he’d been disowned - and when had that been? Barry was ashamed to realise he didn’t know. It might have been a year or five.

 

But as the waltz melted into a polka, Len’s movements loosened up and he led with confidence. He had an economy of movement that was well suited to dance and he seemed to enjoy it. Barry hoped he would have opportunity to dance again in the future.

 

Soon Barry was breathless and flushed and in need of a break. Len laughed good-naturedly at his lack of stamina and invited him to train with Sara, Mick and himself sometimes to remedy it. That comment put them on the hunt for their friends who they found once more close to the source of the victuals. Caitlin looked much improved and was again at that happy stage of drunkenness. Cisco welcomed them warmly once more but was decidedly shy of Len.

 

As the hour grew late, all the people Barry actually cared about being around spilled out of the great hall, stumbling with bottles and cups in hand towards the castle’s chapel on the edge of the forest. The moon was halfway through its phase and offered enough light to make lanterns unnecessary as the group wove its way through copse of trees surrounding the castle.

 

Barry didn’t realise Cisco had absented himself during the trek until he reappeared as they were settling on the grass with Lisa on his arm, still in her costume. Side by side with Len, they created an eerie tableau that didn’t fail to send a shiver through Barry, even knowing as he did now who was beneath the disconcerting costumes.

 

“How did the ploy go, boys?” she asked, settling down into the grass with her feathered cape wrapped around her.

 

“Quite well.” Len paused. “Perhaps _too_ well. I am much more lady-like than you. They may be suspicious when you behave like a great oaf tomorrow.”

 

Lisa kicked out at him. “Pass the wine, you drunkard.”

 

Shawna looked from one sibling to the other, unnerved by the similarities as much as Barry was. To Lisa she asked, “This was your plan?”

 

“Of course it was.”

 

“But why?”

 

Smugly, Lisa answered, “Because I could.”               

 

 

***

 

 

“Sh! Sh! Someone will hear us,” warned Barry as Len pressed closer to him, his hands sneaking beneath Barry’s costume as his mouth ravaged Barry’s neck.

 

“I don’t care,” Len said, nosing in behind Barry’s ear. “I want you.”

 

It was closer to morning than night and the party had largely broken apart by the time Barry’s group of friends tramped back to the castle. They’d said their goodbyes – muffled by yawns – in the great hall and all gone their separate ways to their sleeping quarters.

 

Cisco and Lisa had barely disappeared around a corner before Len had pushed Barry up against the closest wall and kissed him as if he was starved of Barry’s lips.

 

“You’re drunk.”

 

“So are you.” Len bit at Barry’s earlobe and the shock of arousal the pain caused went straight to Barry’s cock. Len’s breath was ragged as he commanded, “So act more drunk.”

 

“If I was any drunker, I don’t know if I’d be of much use to you tonight.” Barry laughed freely as he knocked the mask from Len’s face to the ground, the sound of it straggled into a groan when Len swooped forward and kissed him wet and messily. Barry’s lips tingled and he tasted champagne on Len’s tongue and he wanted to chase that flavour down Len’s throat and curl up warm in his chest, safe and loved.  

 

Barry swore as Len pulled him closer, the hard lines of their bodies slotting together like puzzle pieces. Len’s hardness was insistent against his thigh and Barry’s mouth watered at the thought of it. He loved having Len in his mouth, loved the taste of him and the way he could drive him to madness. He needed very little coaxing to go to his knees before Len.

 

On his knees, in the stable, like the first time he’d pleasured Len…

 

“This is a little bit nostalgic,” Barry panted, his head thrown back as Len sucked on his neck.

 

Len drew back into Barry’s eyeline and blinked several times, his eyes clouded with confusion even as he kept thrusting against Barry. “What?”

 

“Frigging in public.”

 

Len’s face was blank for a second, drunk-dumb, and then his mind made sense of Barry’s words and he began laughing so hard the slow grind between them was forgotten entirely, to Barry’s chagrin.

 

“Miss it, did you?”

 

Barry looked away, his cheeks heating up. “No.”

 

Len pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Liar.”

 

Barry scowled but he couldn’t deny it. “Shut up and kiss me.”

 

So Len did.

 

They kissed for what felt like hours against the cold stone of the walls, until even they began to warm from Len and Barry’s touch. Len cupped Barry through his breaches and Barry thrust into his hand, not so much chasing his climax as enjoying this extra dimension of touch. He wished he could live forever in this togetherness, his world narrowed down to himself and Len and both of their pleasure.

 

Len’s eyes were heavy-lidded, but what Barry could see was almost entirely black, his pupils blown wide. He looked at Barry in a way he didn’t recognise, a way that made something clench in his gut, that made him want to be closer, always closer. Len leant in and sucked on Barry’s lip, drew back a fraction and began to whisper, “I lo—”

 

He was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on flagstones.

 

“Fuck!” Len and Barry broke apart at the same time, both of them cursing and trying to right their clothing.

 

They had only seconds. Len pulled his cloak around him and Barry moved to stand behind him, his costume being the more revealing of the two. There was no time to smooth down Barry’s dishevelled hair or hide the colouring on Barry’s neck where Len had sucked at the skin or even to catch their breathes. They were a tableau of incriminating evidence.

 

The man looked up and saw them and Barry realised – too late – that Len’s mask still lay discarded on the floor.

 

“Good evening,” he said, wariness in his voice.

 

“Good evening,” Barry and Len parroted. Barry didn’t dare look at Len but his own face felt uncomfortably hot and he wouldn’t have been at all surprised if steam was coming off of him. He felt sick in his stomach, like he was about to throw up, and it wasn’t due at all to the alcohol he’d consumed. The man passed them by with a funny look and disappeared around the next corner.

 

Barry was shaking like a leaf when Len took hold of his arm and drew him back in close.

 

“Sh, it’s okay.”

 

His father’s warning from earlier in the night echoed through Barry’s head. “What if he’d seen? Len, what if he told someone?”

 

“He didn’t and so he won’t.” The way Len said it made it seem so certain and, despite himself, Barry calmed a little. Len looked in the direction the man had disappeared. “Who was that?”

 

“I don’t know. A diplomat or a royal or a friend of a friend. The castle is teeming with strangers at the moment.” How stupid he’d been to let his guard down so much. It was one thing to sneak around when it was the usual friends and servants around, but at a time like this! He could blame the drink but he felt sober as the day he was born now.

 

“Come on,” he said, taking Len’s hand, “let’s go back to my room.”

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

Barry was achingly hard. His eyes were shut tight and he was fucking up into his fist, doing nothing to hold back the moans that tumbled from his lips.

 

He’d woken up and he’d been alone. That in itself wasn’t unusual; Len sometimes slipped out before dawn, whether to return to his own room or get breakfast or train, Barry didn’t know. He’d tried for a while to wake before his lover, to steal some hours of the early morning in which to cling together in the wan light before daybreak. He was never able to accomplish the task. Len seemed to rise even earlier than the cockerels began their daily crowing, before even the servants began to stir. Eventually Barry had resigned himself to never being able to beat Len in this regard. At any rate, his absence in the morning wasn’t something Barry ever worried about.

 

He’d been hard, too, upon waking – also not an uncommon occurrence. But drifting out of dreams of warm lips and warmer hands on his flesh to the disappointing reality of the bed beside him being cold was dissatisfying and not the right way to start the day.

 

Barry had turned his head to where Len had been, chasing a fraction of his warmth or smell, as he took himself in hand and began a slow stroking, little more than a teasing brush of his fingers over his hard length. He seemed particularly attuned to the natural scent of Len which he’d found only grew headier with his arousal. Only a trace of it lingered there this morning, though Barry believed it had begun to seep into the pores of the room for all the nights Len had spent there. It was a drone note complimenting the andante melody of his arousal. Still, it wasn’t long before he felt the crescendo of his completion creeping up on him as he continued imagining the dream he’d been so rudely evicted from.

 

A hand gripping the flesh of his hip could almost be Len’s. He brought his palm to his mouth and lathed it generously with his tongue. The wet and tight pressure that then gripped his cock could almost be his lover’s mouth.

 

Barry loved when Len put his mouth on him; it never failed to bring back memories of that first time in the library – Barry’s initial surprise, the thrill of exposure and the resulting climax Len’s talented mouth had wrung from him. He shied away from what had happened after that, instead comforted in the knowledge that they had resolved those problems with minimal damage to their relationship.

 

Barry continued fucking his hand, his lust fuelled by memories of his times together with Len, with fantasies of what they may do in the future, and so, when he heard the door to his chamber open, he didn’t even open his eyes.

 

The door closed and several moments of silence passed, interrupted only by Barry’s panting and the lewd slap of skin against skin. Even without looking, Barry knew Len would be leaning back against the door, not touching himself. In fact, he would bet that his arms would be crossed over his chest as his clever eyes drank in the sight of Barry pleasuring himself.

 

Imagining that gaze stoked the embers of Barry’s desire and he quickened the pace of his hand.

 

“This is a nice way to start the morning.” Len’s voice, svelte and rendered husky with desire, made Barry’s balls tighten and sent a thrill running through him, even as it made him laugh.

 

Barry opened his eyes as he felt the bed dip under Len’s weight and met Len’s gaze. He could see his own passion reflected back at him in those stormy eyes but Len made no move to join in on Barry’s pleasure. Instead, he watched as Barry continued his stroking, not faltering for a moment at the new body in the room.

 

It really shouldn’t matter, but somehow Len’s very presence made everything feel more intense. Barry felt his climax once again creeping up on him.

 

“Would you like a hand?” Len asked, his voice deceptively calm.

 

“Just kiss me,” Barry panted. “I’m so close.”

 

So Len leant over him, not touching him at all except for where their mouths met, and their lips worked together lazily until Barry came over his chest with a shuddering groan. Len pulled back to let him draw in ragged breaths and slipped further down the bed to lick Barry’s seed from his skin.

 

Barry could bear the sensation only a short while, even though the sight stoked the embers of his passion once again. When he was clean and Len was simply running his tongue over Barry’s body to tease, Barry laughed breathlessly and pushed him away. “That tickles.”

 

Len shared in his grin as he wiped his mouth against his sleeve. “I’m just trying to help get you ready for the day.”

 

Barry melted back in among the blankets and pillows, stretching sleep from his limbs with calculated movements. He felt more than saw Len’s eyes on him, drinking in the sight of his body, and Len’s regard pleased him as it always did, making him want to put on more of a display.

 

“We could spend it in bed,” suggested Barry coyly. He snaked a hand down from his neck to his chest, a ghost of a touch over his nipple. “Wouldn’t you prefer that?”

 

Len made a noncommittal humming sound and his hand came to rest on Barry’s thigh, closer to Barry’s knee than his groin than he would have preferred.

 

“You know I would,” he said, his eyes lingering over Barry’s body, before quickly squeezing Barry’s thigh and turning away, “but your father requests your presence.”

 

Barry sat up, his seduction forgotten. “What’s the matter?”

 

Len began pulling clothing from Barry’s wardrobe and laying them out on his dresser. “The Kords will be departing today – the last of your party guests to leave – and he wishes you to sit in on negotiations.”

 

Barry flopped back down. “You should go in my stead and I’ll stay here. You’re much better at being ruthless than I am.”

 

A well-aimed jacket landed on Barry’s face, causing him to jolt up in bed and wake completely. He threw it aside, not caring if it got crumpled or dirty on the floor, and glared at Len.

 

It did nothing to dampen the man’s efficient buttling. “The Kords are good allies. Besides, I will not be taking over this kingdom when your father steps down.”

 

“I wish you would,” Barry said and meant it. “With your talents and knowledge, it seems such a waste that your father…” He faltered. “Well, you know.”

 

“He disowned me. You can say it. I won’t fall in a heap of tears.” Having set Barry’s clothing out, Len now approached and stripped the bed, effectively evicting Barry from it. At the same time he ushered Barry towards his dressing table. “I’m glad to be away from him, even though at times it’s meant living a little rougher – and gladder still that Lisa is now free as well.”

 

Barry stripped his nightshirt over his head and took each item of underclothing from Len as they were handed to him and put them on. “If only your father had been kinder…”

 

“And if wishes were horses…”

 

Barry slipped on his shirt, buttoning it quickly to allow Len to slip his waistcoat on from behind. Len’s arms lingered, wrapped around him, as he leisurely fastened it at the front. Barry turned his head and stole a kiss and Len’s nimble fingers faltered.

 

“You would have been a fine monarch,” Barry said, drawing only so far back as to speak.

 

Len’s lips quirked in a smile but there was a sadness in his eyes. He pressed a final kiss to Barry’s mouth. “But then I would never have met you.” He pulled away as Barry stood there, struck dumb by the depth of sentiment in Len’s remark.

 

“Come, get your shoes on,” Len bossed. “It’s time to be productive.”

 

They walked the corridors of the castle side by side, shoulders jostling together occasionally, sharing secret smiles, but they put some space between them before knocking on the great hall’s door.

 

It opened before them to reveal the major parties already seated around the table, morning tea being set before them by the servants. Seats were empty on either side of Henry and that’s where Barry and Len took their place – Barry to the left and Len to the right. Tea and biscuits were quickly placed in front of them.

 

“Thank you for rousing my son, Leonard,” said Henry, turning to his left.

 

“It was my pleasure.”

 

Barry could tell from the playfulness in his eyes that Len meant that quite literally. In lieu of not being able to give him a swift kick, Barry flipped him off under the table.

 

Henry cleared his throat quite purposely – Barry flushed and Len stifled a laugh – and then began the meeting.

 

Barry drifted off as the usual formalities were covered: gratitude for having been hosted by the Allens, reconfirming of alliances, trade deals. King Theodore Kord was much like Barry’s own father in many regards: cool-headed, intelligent and kind. His right hand man and faithful companion was less conventional. If Barry remembered rightly, he’d only appeared several years ago but had quickly won the favour and friendship of the king.

 

Barry considered the man, Michael Carter. His mode of dress was foreign though he himself claimed not to be. Barry wasn’t so sure about that. He spoke English like a native but with a strange accent that defied classification. He might be regarded as a mystery except he was so personable that it was hard to ascribe any ill intent to him.

 

At meals he’d commanded the table with humour and wit but he remained quiet throughout the meeting. Barry might have believed this was usual for him except for the worried glances the king kept aiming his way. Speculating on the meaning behind those glances occupied Barry’s thoughts as the meeting wound to a close.

 

He remained seated as advisers and ministers took their leave and watched from the corner of his eye as King Theodore leant in and whispered to Carter. The latter’s eyes were unfocussed and if he heard what King Theodore was saying, he made no motion to acknowledge it.

 

“What’s going on?” asked Len, coming to stand beside Barry’s chair and drawing his eyes away from the peculiar spectacle. As interesting as King Theodore and Michael Carter’s interactions were, when it came to Len, Barry was like a moth to a flame: he would always be drawn to him. He noted today that there was a freeness and confidence to Len’s movements and expressions that Barry had not remarked before in public. It became him.

 

“I’m not sure.”

 

Len’s eyes narrowing was the only warning he had before a hand landed on his shoulder. The touch was gentle but firm. Barry turned to find Michael Carter there, eyes still hazy, and felt compelled to follow him when he moved away.

 

“Barry…” Len said and there was worry in his voice.

 

Barry couldn’t deny that same worry was mirrored within himself. Carter was not behaving in any way like he had the rest of his sojourn at the castle. He seemed hollowed out of his own personality and filled with something Barry could not fathom. Something told him, though, this invitation was momentous and to dismiss it would be folly. So, despite his reservations, Barry followed Michael Carter.

 

“It’s alright,” he reassured Len, moving away.

 

Carter did not go far, only removed them from hearing range of the few who lingered in the great hall. He turned to Barry and it felt like he was being seen right through. He was overcome with the irrational thought that Michael Carter knew everything about him, even his deepest secrets. There was no judgement behind that gaze, though. It was impartial.

 

“Difficult times are ahead,” said Michael Carter in that curious accent of his.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Carter continued as if Barry had said nothing. “But together you can weather the storm. Be vigilant. He has no power over you. He will know as much. He will sneak and slither like the snake he is. In the middle of the night he will come and you will know his presence from the baying of dogs. He will be alone. Cut out the pestilence. The offspring will survive and thrive.”

 

Barry’s breath felt tight in his chest. A creeping feeling prickled at his back.

 

Barry had never considered himself especially superstitious but he could see Michael Carter’s words as nothing else but what they were: a prophecy. Something had worn the body of Michael Carter to bring Barry this cryptic message. Already Carter’s eyes were clearing, taking on a little of their usual brightness.

 

“Michael!”

 

King Theodore was approaching.

 

Michael Carter blinked and Barry could tell he was fully himself again. “Ted…”

 

King Theodore fussed over his friend, placing the back of his hand against Carter’s temple to take his temperature. “You should rest.”

 

“Yeah,” said Carter, rubbing at his forehead, “maybe I should.”

 

Barry and King Theodore watched him retire from the room, his steps growing more assured the further he went. Barry could sense the king’s desire to follow him but for some reason he stayed by Barry’s side.

 

“I’m sorry, your Highness,” said King Theodore, turning to face Barry, worry on his face. “Michael knows things. Sometimes they come to pass, sometimes they do not. I hope he didn’t say anything to offend you.”

 

Barry turned Michael Carter’s words over in his mind but could find no immediate meaning in them. He didn’t feel as though he was being preyed upon by the “he” Carter spoke of. In fact, never in his life had he felt so content and safe, largely in part to Len’s presence in his life.

 

King Theodore’s anxious worry seemed excessive if he was only worried Barry had been disturbed by his lunatic friend. No, it spoke of fear of the prophecy told and of how Barry would react to it. If King Theodore put credence in his friend’s foresights then it would not be wise of Barry to dismiss them out of hand.

 

“Do you put stock in his predictions, your Majesty?” Barry hazarded, not wishing to offend but also wanting to know what truth lay in Michael Carter’s words.

 

King Theodore paused only a moment, gauging Barry’s sincerity, before he answered with absolute confidence. “I would wager my life on them.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

When King Theodore left, Len sidled up to Barry’s side.

 

“What was that?”

 

“I’m not sure.”

 

 

***

 

 

Barry heaved a sigh of relief as the Kord’s retinue finally disappeared down the winding road, Henry and a small company of his own accompanying them through the forest. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed their company; King Theodore had always been a fast friend of his father’s and an unwavering ally; but the need to always be aware there were outsiders in the castle and modify his behaviour as such was wearying.

 

Michael Carter’s words also weighed heavily on him and he wasn’t sure if it was worth burdening Len with the knowledge of a prophecy that may never come to fruition. He would appreciate some time alone to mull it over.

 

“That’s everyone gone then,” remarked Lisa, leading them back into the castle and to her preferred sitting room. She picked up a half-finished sampler and resumed where she had left off before the party. “I can finally see Cisco whenever I want again.”

 

“Yes,” agreed Len, “it will be nice to return to a little normalcy. Nice to not have outsiders in the castle again.”

 

“I’m glad,” Barry sank into the love seat beside Len, “I won’t have to watch my manners as much.”

 

Lisa raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Or your flagrant displays of affection.”

 

Barry frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

She gestured downwards and when Barry followed the motion, his eyes landed on his and Len’s clasped hands. A soft exclamation of surprise left his lips.

 

He hadn’t even realised he’d reached for Len (though of course he had, he was always reaching for Len). He looked to Len and could tell from his apologetic smile that he’d noticed but allowed Barry this comfort.

 

Barry’s chest felt tight. He dithered between removing his hand and leaving it as it was. Too late he realised how close he’d sat to Len, their sides touching from shoulder to knee. That alone spoke loudly of secrets he’d been trying to keep.

 

“You needn’t worry,” said Lisa, her voice gentled by the upset she observed in Barry. “It’s not only myself; no one here minds.”

 

Barry’s palms were clammy and he wanted nothing more than to break away from Len and wipe the sweat from his skin but Len just held on tighter, an anchor in the sea of Barry’s distress, keeping him steady and stopping him from shaking apart.

 

“You can’t know that.”

 

“Oh, Barry,” her voice dripped with pity but not for Barry’s overwhelming love, only for his naivety. “You’re surrounded by relentless gossips. I can assure you with some confidence: quite literally no one minds. They have told me so.”

 

“It’s safe,” Len echoed.

 

Barry clutched back at Len’s hold on his hand, ducking his head to hide the smile that tugged at his lips. He felt overfull with happiness.

 

 

***

 

 

Barry could not have imagined the change in Len from when he’d first met him. Indeed, to compare his current self to the man who’d thrown Eobard Thawne’s severed head at Henry’s feet that first day, it were as if two souls – entirely unalike in nature – had taken turns possessing the corporeal vessel that was Len.

 

The change had been, in turn, both tiresomely drawn out and startlingly sudden.

 

The household’s gentle acceptance of their relationship – the extent of which ranged from person to person – bolstered Len’s confidence to pursue the closeness that seemed so vital to him.  Among their friends he was free with his affections – contained as they were. There were no grand gestures, no declarations or excesses of emotion. Instead there was Len’s sweet smile when their pinkie fingers butted together on a tabletop; or the casual way he would touch Barry’s body to guide or get his attention, confidence born of familiarity; or how he didn’t hide the love in his expression whenever he looked at Barry.

 

Barry learnt to be freer, too. As he came to learn, their little game at his birthday party had fooled no one who actually knew Barry, Len and Lisa, and so no one who had seen them that night was surprised by the change in how the two princes behaved around each other.

 

“You look happy,” remarked Henry one day as Barry bounded into the castle, soaked to the bone in a sudden spring rain, smiling broadly nevertheless. Len had taken both of their horses to the stable to unsaddle and urged him to go ahead to have a bath drawn. Barry was hesitant to leave him to do all the work but Len’s promise to share the bath with him had decided the matter and put Barry in high spirits. “You both do.”

 

“I am.”

 

“That’s all your mother and I ever wanted for you.” Henry wrapped an arm around Barry and pulled him into a quick side hug, drawing away before he, too, became wet through. “I really did think I’d broken my promise to her when I made you marry Lisa.”

 

“You didn’t make me,” Barry said with a roll of his eyes. “I made that decision – and it’s brought me more happiness than I ever could have hoped for.”

 

“I must admit, I feel similarly. Funny to think how much you hated him when you first met,” Henry said with a chuckle and Barry joined in on his mirth. He could hardly comprehend how much he had despised Len that first month, it seemed so distant now. Henry gently prodded him. “Go on, go get warmed up.”

 

Barry flashed him one last smile. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

 

Then he ran for the stairs, hurrying to get the bath drawn before Len returned.

 

 

***

 

 

Barry laid his cards down when a servant knocked on the parlour door, interrupting his game of piquet with Len.

 

“Yes?”

 

The servant bowed stiffly to his prince, his eyes then darting between the two for several moments before he turned away with some hesitance to face Len.

 

“Sir, there’s a messenger for you.”

 

A crease furrowed its way between Len’s brows.

 

“Thank you,” he said, setting aside his hand and rising. “I’ll be down shortly.”

 

Once the servant was gone, Barry and Len exchanged a look. Not since Len had arrived at the castle had anyone come calling for him. According to Len, everyone he knew and cared for was already residing in the castle with them. Communications from outside were then unexpected and, in a way, unwelcome.

 

“Shall I come down with you?” asked Barry.

 

“No,” Len shook the suggestion away, “I’m sure it’s not anything I can’t handle on my own.”

 

Barry rose, too, and laid a hand on his arm. “I’ll see you back in our room then.”

 

As Barry was turning around to leave, his hand slipping from Len’s arm, Len grabbed it and drew it to his mouth, placing a kiss upon the knuckles and then, taking advantage of Barry’s surprise, stepped forward and placed another on the join of Barry’s lips.

 

“I won’t be long,” he promised.

 

Barry walked back to their room in a daze, the spots where Len had placed his lips tingling and he touched them reverently with the tips of his fingers.

 

Thinking Len would be with the messenger for a little while, he stopped by his father’s rooms on his way to bed and bid him goodnight.

 

Barry had only just got back to his room and was hanging his coat when he heard the door open.

 

“That didn’t take long,” he remarked, continuing to undress. No reply came and Barry assumed Len was readying for bed as well. They often talked for hours once they were under the covers.

 

He was quite surprised when he turned around and Len was still standing by the door, fully dressed, head hanging low.

 

“What’s wrong?” Barry asked, moving to stand in front of him, and ran a hand through his prickly hair.

 

“He’s coming.”

 

Barry kissed the side of his mouth and then ducked his head so they were eye to eye. “Who?”

 

“My father.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this first chapter on [my tumblr](http://http://nafeathers.tumblr.com/) but I suppose this is me actually committing to finishing it.
> 
> Salome gave me the idea, Thomas Weelkes gave me the title and it went on from there.


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